#jeon jungkook tattoo

[kookiestarlight]

Lines of fate: 01 | jjk

➵ pairing: tattooist!jungkook x f. reader

➵ genre: apocalypse au, exes to lovers (?) dad!jungkook, survival, angst, smut

➵ summary: the last thing Jungkook ever imagined was an outbreak that turned the dead into the living. But even more unexpected is seeing you—an ex he’s known nothing about in the past four years—with a small child who bears a striking resemblance to himself. As Jungkook grapples with the shock and the city spirals into chaos, the two of you are thrust back together, forced to confront unresolved feelings, long-buried truths, and the horrors of the deadly virus taking over.

➵ word count: 11.9k

➵ warnings: swearing (jk says fuck way too much), graphic depictions of violence and death, blood and gore, seizures, virus and zombies ofc, brief mentions of alcohol consumption.

➵ series masterlist

➵ a/n: it’s finally here!! <3 sorry this was postponed way longer than expected, all I can say is: life :,) anyway!! posting my writing again after years on hiatus definitely feels nerve wracking lol. this idea has been in my wips for literally years so I’m so excited to finally be sharing it with you all!! I would greatly appreciate your feedback and thoughts as it is something quite different from anything I usually write (it’s definitely been a kick in the ass) it’ll also really help me stay motivated to continue writing it. thank you for all the hype and excitement you showed for this fic before it was even released cause like hello?? that’s crazy to me😭 thanks for always showing my stories love and support🫶🏻 I’ve taken inspiration from all the zombie movies and videogames I’ve ever seen and played over the years (thanks dad). I should also mention, I had a very thorough plot for this planned out and it kinda went to shit in the process of writing so we’re kind of going off vibes only and 20% of the plot I had originally planned so yeah, bare with me🤪 I also want to say, updates on this will most likely be slow, but I will try my best to get them out as fast I can for you🙏 now that that’s over, I hope you enjoy this series as much as I am enjoying writing it!! this chapter is just the very beginning <33

The autumn sun filters through the large window with an amber glow as you take a slow sip of your coffee, the warm bitterness spreading in your chest as you attempt to chase some kind of comfort. But the loud hum of the city just outside and the muffled chatter of the bustling cafe are very much a grounding reminder of where you are — and where you really wish you weren't.

Your gaze travels down to your daughter sitting on the booth beside you, her little legs swinging off the seat contentedly as she picks away at her blueberry muffin. Completely oblivious to your ongoing little inner torment. Her big eyes flicker up to meet yours, brimming with glee. Brushing a crumb off her cheek, you force a little smile for her. 

Like a dull sting under your skin, you feel how little teeth of guilt gnaw away at you, not only because it’s been almost impossible to offer her a genuine smile in the past two days since you stepped foot in this dammed place, but because you simply wish you could share the same excitement as she does, and perhaps…feel more positive about this whole situation. For her.

But all you’ve been able to feel is guilt.

An incessant amount of it. Guilt and fear. Slowly brewing up inside you like some sort of poison that has had you feeling a little sick to your stomach.

”You’re spiraling again.” Hoseok pulls you out of your absentminded state, studying you over the rim of his half finished iced americano.

You blink. You often tend to forget how well he’s capable of reading you. Though you suppose that’s a skill acquired with nearly twenty years of friendship, and an unavoidable consequence of growing up constantly together, practically like siblings. 

Hoseok has been the only constant in your life for as long as you can remember, like a brother to you — conjoined at the hip as his mother always used to joke. It all began when you moved next door. With your parents always working late and often times far away from home, Hoseok's home slowly became your second one — the place you spent most of your childhood and adolescence and formed some of your fondest memories. A place where you were never alone.

You do suppose it’s no surprise the years and the unbreakable bond you’ve formed have given you exceptional abilities to know when something is off with just a simple glance. But it's never less surprising.

The corners of your mouth tug upwards into a tiny smile at his words, brows pinched in a pathetic attempt to hide your truth. “I am not.”

“You are. You’re thinking too much,” he stirs the ice in his drink with the straw, eyes flicking up to meet yours again. “Which if I may remind you, is one of your fatal flaws.”

You scoff, only slightly offended as you watch him take a slow sip. Pushing your sunglasses further up your head as you lean back. “Thinking too much is not my fatal flaw.” 

He’s may very likely be right about that, but of course, you’d never actually admit it.

Hoseok snorts, clearly unconvinced. His voice just above a whisper when he murmurs, “Right. Sorry. It’s definitely lying.”

Before you can argue, he leans forward to accept some crumbs of muffin Jieun is so eagerly offering him. The sight tugs at something deep in your chest, watching his expression soften to mush as he thanks her with that brightest, tender smile he only ever uses for her before he brings his attention back to you. 

“If it weren’t your fatal flaw, you’d actually be enjoying that overpriced coffee and oh—, maybe being reunited with your best friend again. I haven’t even seen you in like three months.” He shakes his head in utter disappointment, sitting back with a dramatic sigh.

“Hobi, I am so thrilled to be reunited with you, truly.” You roll your eyes ever so slightly and place a hand on your heart rather sarcastically as you say it, but deep down you hope he knows you’re only half joking. No one has done for you more than what hoseok has in the time you’ve known him.

You suppose all the change has got you in a rather sentimental state. But you bury it away. Hoseok deserves a nice time out with a friend for once too. He’s seen enough of your tears.

“Yeah?” he leans in, studying you with mock concern. Though not falling for it even a bit. "That's your thrilled face? You sure about that?” You almost laugh in response, but then, he shifts, looking more serious than just seconds ago. “You know,” he pauses, crossing his arms over his chest. “For someone who finally landed a nice new job and has everything working out, you don’t look all that thrilled to me, actually. That’s all.”

You press your lips together and glance down at your coffee, suddenly the truth a little too hard to face. You should be happy. He’s right. Because things really are starting to look up for you again. Everything you’ve spent the last few months wishing for has finally become a reality. And yet, you can’t shake the fact that there’s a deep buried sense of dread that seems to be getting in the way of that, a familiar fear that's been present for years, but only intensified since you stepped foot in Seoul again. 

Hoseok follows your gaze, watching you carefully, then nudges your foot under the table gently. “Come on.” He murmurs softly, eyebrows raised gently. “What is it?”

You suppose your real fatal flaw is your emotions showing up as flashy neon subtitles over your head apparently, or the fact you are simply terrible at hiding them, because Hoseok doesn't budge. He sees right through your little facade — always has. And as much as you know he is a great listener and that he genuinely cares to hear it all, always ready to give you a helping hand in any way he possibly can, you just don’t want to sound ungrateful. Not when anyone else in your position would be feeling over the moon right now.

Besides, you’ve never liked burdening him, or anyone for that matter. Never wanted to add more weight to the heavy things he already carries himself. He deals with so much of that at work already. So many problems significantly worse than your own worries. So you simply shake your head, putting on a small smile once again in hopes to appease him.

“I’m alright, Hobi. It's just…strange. Being back here. Overwhelming, I guess,” you admit, though only to half of the truth. “It’s so calm on the island. I suppose I got used to it. Everything here is just so intense. But that's all.” You cross your arms on the table as you gaze out at the busy streets. Hoping you don't sound as pathetic as you feel. Though in truth, this whole things isn't just strange. It’s all actually fucking terrifying.

In many ways it seemed like nothing here had changed since the day you left four years ago. The cityscape is as bustling as you remember – a stark contrast to the quietude and stillness of Jeju, where you had been building your new life up until now. People in suits rush back and forth and push into each other with no care, everything is always shadowed by a maze of buildings that don't seem to have an end. Cars weave through traffic like they want to crash into each other, and neon signs and billboards still flicker blindingly even in the daytime. 

The fact that everything remains the same, terrifies you. The rush, the stress, the chaos. That constant hustle and bustle that seems suffocating. It wasn't the reason why you left. but it was certainly a factor that made your life here something you wanted to escape from. It feels like stepping back into the life you thought you’d left behind for good. Like stepping onto a moving treadmill, when you no longer know how to run. Not sure if you’ll ever find your place here again.

Hobi hums in understanding, and the warmth in the familiarity of his smile helps lessen the knot that's been forming in your stomach all morning. And though you've only let out a tiny portion of what's on your mind, you already feel like you can breathe with more ease.

Sometimes, it’s not so bad that he can see right through you. Because you also tend to forget he’s the only one that truly gets you, understands you when even you struggle to understand yourself, and has never once been one to judge you, no matter how small or ridiculous it may be.

“Yeah, I get it. It can be overwhelming.” He nods slowly, letting the words settle. “But if I were you, I’d be damn proud of myself.” His expression is calm and his words full of sincerity as he speaks. “You did what you had to do, and now you’re doing it again. Making more big changes. Really tough decisions, and I know that’s not easy.” He pauses. “But you've always made it after all. This time won't be different. Besides, think about this, we’re close to each other now. I’ll be here for anything you guys need, you know that.”

Your heart softens at his comforting words, and the reassurance feels like it melts some of the tension off your shoulders. And for just a split second you feel that roar of confidence, thinking about everything you've accomplished, but it's not lasting, and deflates with the weight of your heavier thoughts.

You want to believe what he says — you really do. For your daughter's sake. Because this is finally your chance to start over and build something better. To give Jieun the life she deserves, something stable, a chance to thrive in a place full of new opportunities. 

A fresh start. 

After all, isn't that all you've ever been chasing?

You don’t want to allow your fears and the past to come in the way of that. But it's never so simple. At least, definitely not here — definitely not for you.

Because the truth is, being in Seoul again feels like roaming a haunted city. Tainted and plagued by shadows from the past, by who you used to be, and everything and everyone you left behind all those years ago when you ran and didn’t dare to look back. Being here now, you can’t shake the feeling — the apprehension and fear that everything you once left behind is lurking around the corner, ready to jump out and haunt you, making everything you've finally built up crumble to pieces once again. This place just gives you an indescribable feeling of…dread. Eeriness even. Enough for it to linger gut deep with a painful sense of discomfort that hasn’t eased since the day you arrived. As if you can never truly let your guard down.

But after all, it was an opportunity you couldn’t pass up, even if it meant returning to the city you swore you’d never step foot in again. The offer came at just the right moment, a lifeline after months of uncertainty and dead-ends. After losing your job, and endless nights crying yourself to sleep with the heavy burden of becoming a failure of a mother and not knowing how to make ends meet. You practically cried with joy the morning you finally got the call, and ignored the pit that formed in your stomach when you heard where it required you to move to. It had felt like you were about to reach the peak of a mountain, only to drop all the way back down to the bottom. But it was a steady paycheck, and a chance to finally give Jieun some stability. It wasn’t glamorous or grand — a position in a small marketing firm. But it was enough to rebuild. The breakthrough you so badly needed to start over and secure a future for your little girl. 

How could you possibly turn it down?

That was your biggest and only goal in life.

There was nothing you wouldn’t do for her. So you knew in that very instant you had to take it. Even if it meant returning to the place that broke you beyond repair. So you packed up your life and now, here you are. Back where you never thought you’d be. So far from the tranquility of the home you had made for yourself in a secluded tiny seaside town four years ago. Where you were happy. Where you didn't live in constant fear.

“I know this is what I need right now,” you speak softly, more to yourself than anything. You reach out, gently brushing your fingers through Jieun's baby soft hair, watching as she focuses intently on her muffin, completely unaware of the heaviness of the conversation. “I just don’t want to mess anything up…the job, you know, our new life here. I want to get this right. I don’t want anything, getting in the way of that.” You swallow thickly, fingers tightening around the mug of coffee in front of you, and Hoseok knows exactly what you mean by that. You hesitate, letting out a quiet breath before speaking again. “I know there's so many opportunities for us here but…I was happy in Jeju. Jieun was happy.”

Hoseok nods, slow and understanding. “I know you were. A city like this takes some adapting to, you know that.” He reaches out and gives your arm a gentle squeeze, “but give it time. You’ll settle right back in.” He says warmly, reassuring. You return a tiny smile, more genuine this time.

“Seriously though. Change is good. New home, new job, meeting new people…maybe even someone special…” he adds.

You scoff, eyes widening, only half incredulous at how fast he swerved the topic there. So typical of him. 

“Yeah no, thanks. You can stop it right there.” You shake your head.

“What?” Hobi leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he waggles his eyebrows, a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, completely unbothered despite your clear opposition. “I'm just saying,” he adds in, raising his hands in mock innocence, though he feels like your glare could actually kill him. “You’re young. You’re no longer in that tiny ass town full of old drunk married cheating men. Everyone deserves a little fun. It wouldn't kill you to-”

“Hobi,” you sigh, cringing internally at the memories of disastrous dates you told him all about over the phone. You throw a pointed look in his direction, but Hoseok just chuckles. “I’m done with all that. Seriously.”

“Come on,” he presses.

“No. No way. I told you.” You interject, tone firm, not even allowing space for the idea. “I’m a single mother, Hobi. That’s been off the cards for years. I have different priorities now.” You straighten in your seat, making a point to scoop Jieun's hair back and out of her drink. These are your priorities now.

Hoseok raises a brow, watching you carefully, but there's no judgment in his expression now — just silent understanding. He leans back in his chair again, smile dying down, tapping his fingers absently against his iced americano before his gaze drifts over to your little girl. His expression softens, fondness flowing in his eyes.

“I know,” he says after a moment, his tone a tad more gentle. “But I’m just saying…you’re allowed to let yourself be happy again, you know. You deserve that.”

Something uncomfortable twists in your insides. Happy. What a simple word, but what a complex thing. 

You lift your eyes to meet his, the sincerity in his gaze cutting right through. You could argue, explain that you don't agree, that romance is a door locked for good. Not only out of fear, but out of necessity. It’s no longer just about you. You don’t have the luxury of reckless choices or fleeting little flings like you did before.

There's simply to much buried history to let anyone new into your life.

And deep down, you don't believe you deserve it. But you don’t voice any of that. There's no need to explain. Hoseok knows your history better than anyone, the pain etched deep into you, the one you carry like a scar beneath your skin. He knows Jieun's father plays a big role in that, even though you don’t dare to mention him and haven’t in years. He knows his existence and every memory he’s involved in is something you merely refuse to acknowledge. And though Hoseok wants nothing more than for you to thrive, he knows better than to press on the matter. 

Still, he hesitates before speaking quietly. “I’ve been here four years, and I’ve never seen him again.”

He says it gently, in hopes the information is comforting to you, to maybe put you at ease, but instead it feels like a small jab between your ribs. You stiffen, for just a second. You feel your heart begin to race a tiny bit faster. And you wonder when the mention of him will stop having this goddamn effect on you.

Hoseok notices, and regret quickly flickers across his face. He realizes he might have overstepped, treading on thin ice that he fears may slowly be cracking beneath him.

But it doesn't. You take a deep breath, and you simply nod. It’s okay. You know you can’t avoid it forever. Besides, who’s to say he even still lives here? The thought should be reassuring, bring you some sort of peace, be relieving. But it isn’t. Because the thought of ever seeing him again makes your palms sweat, and your chest a little tight.

“Yeah.” You say quietly. “You’re right. Who knows.”

You don't mention how many late nights you've stayed up, haunted with thoughts like if ever did make it out of here. If he ever made it to the states and accomplished all those things he wanted. If he's perhaps settled down and started a family or if he's stuck right where he used to be, how he used to be. You don't mention that sometimes, you mind even attacks you with the intrusive thought of if he’s even still alive.

You don't dare mention any of it.

Hoseok exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I just-” He pauses, voice lowering as he checks Jieun to make sure she's not listening, not that she would know or understand, but you appreciate that he does. “I know we’re not meant to talk about him–“

You push past it, giving a small dismissive shake of the head. Instead, you plaster on a small practiced smile, turning to glance down at the little girl beside you as well. It isn't something easy to avoid. But for the past four years, somehow, you’ve managed it. 

“Anyway. I am happy,” you say, voice softer now, steering the conversation elsewhere. “I get all the love I need from my little lovebug right here, don’t I?”

The little lovebug in question remains completely unaware of the heaviness of the conversation. Instead, her wide eyes are fixated on something outside, her eyes big and small fingers suddenly clutching your sleeve.

“Mommy, look!” She gasps, tugging desperately for your attention, she calls you again, tearing you away from your conversation. “The birdy!”

You follow her gaze, a small black bird just on the other side of the glass, and the simplicity of her joy softens you, eases the heaviness for a second. It really doesn't take much to amuse a child, and you’re glad to see at least someone enjoying her time here so far. “I see, baby.”

You smile with her, that is until, just a moment later, you notice… the small bird is no longer pecking at crumbs on the pavement. It’s… acting rather strangely. Its head twitches sharply to the side, body jerking with twitchy erratic movements as it flaps it’s wings like crazy, then suddenly, it freezes, before twitchting again.

Your brows furrow, unable to take your eyes off it. What the hell? Something about it sends a strange chill through you, suddenly understanding what had Jieun so surprised.

“Oh, I think that poor bird might have gone a little coo coo.” Hoseok turns his head to take a look himself, and you both exchange a puzzled glance, to which Hobi just shrugs with a mildly disgusted expression.

“What, you know I hate birds.” he whispers, shrugging like someone just walked over his grave, and you swat his arm and shush him, suppressing a laugh. You wouldn't want your sweet animal loving daughter hearing that. 

“Isn't that so weird. I’ve never seen one do that before.” You say, and hoseok tilts his head, staring at it with a mildly grossed out frown. “Probably has some kind of parasite or something. Not sure.”

“It’s gonna die?” she looks up at hobi, her little face full of worry. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her in closer.

“Not necessarily, bub. I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Hobi answers, trying to be tactful, however, Jieun doesn’t look convinced, but she nods sadly and resumes eating spoonfuls of her hot chocolate that's long gone cold. 

“Yeah, it’ll be fine baby.” You kiss the top of her head, as you glance out the window once again, only to see it’s no longer there. 

“So odd.” You shake your head, taking another sip of your coffee, and Hoseok nods and lets out a low hum, taking another sip himself.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day? Are you actually gonna start unpacking, or are you going to let those suitcases rot in your living room for another week?” He taunts.

You chuckle. “I’ll unpack eventually. This little girl and I have a long list of errands left to do today.”

“Uh-huh.” He gives you an unconvinced look, then looks at Jieun with a dramatic pout, cooing. “My poor little monkey. Prisoner to moms to do list. I remember that feeling.”

She giggles, and you speak up. “Shhh, she loves errands with mommy, don't you-”

Suddenly, a loud crash sound from the back of the café, startling you all.

The sharp clatter of metal rings out and you hear a young worker gasp, emerging hastily from behind the counter as the previous muffle of conversation begins to die down. Heads immediately start turning towards the scene unfolding before them. 

“What the hell?” you murmur as you hastily turn around yourself, pulse spiked from the jump.

Near the back of the cafe, a chair is knocked to the ground, a mans body hunched over on the floor, shaking and convulsing with an unnatural force that seems to take over him completely. The man sitting beside him instantly scrambles to the floor next to him, shaking his shoulders in a failed attempt to break him out of whatever is happening as he calls out for help in a trembling voice, panicked.

“Oh my god, Hobi-” You gasp and your stomach twists as you take in what is occurring, grip instinctively tightening around your daughter's hand, turning her away from the scene. One of the members of staff pulls out her phone, announcing that she will call an ambulance right away, the man on the floor now surrounded by two other workers that instantly made their way over to him.

Hoseok takes just a few seconds to register what’s going on. “Shit.” He mutters, “A seizure.”

Instantly, he’s up on his feet, leaving you and Jieun behind and rushes over to help, but before he can reach the man on the floor, a young worker steps in front of him, his hands raised. 

“An ambulance is on the way!” he blurts out, eyes darting between the unconscious man and the crowd gathering around him, Hoseok noticing his eyes full of panic. “Please, just give him space.”

“It's alright. I’m a nurse,” Hoseok urges, trying to step around him. “Please, let me-”

This time, there’s no resistance — only relief in the young man's panicked eyes as he steps aside, allowing Hoseok through to where the man is convulsing on the floor.

Jesus christ. On his one day off. He thinks internally.

Without hesitation, Hoseok drops to one knee. “Don’t hold him down,” he instructs the mans friend beside him as he proceeds to unbutton the first few buttons of the man's shirt to facilitate his breathing. He presses his fingers to his wrist as best as he can, taking a pulse. He attempts to roll him on his side, but he seizes with too much force, limbs jerking far too erratically for him to do so. 

“Has he ever had seizures before? Is he epileptic?” Hoseok asks without tearing his eyes away from the man.

The man's friend just shakes his head. “No…no- he was fine right before.”

“Ambulance is just two minutes away,” the barista yells, phone still pressed to her ear. Hoseok nods but keeps his focus on the young man. Face contorted in concertation as he's checking his pulse once again before tilting his head to ensure he’s breathing properly.

You sit speechless few tables away, watching the scene unfold, your heart erratic in your chest. But feeling so much relief Hoseok was here. Jieun's small hand holds yours tightly, grip strong. She shifts in her seat, trying to peek over the booth to the commotion, but you gently pull her in beside you. Pulling her close, you brush a soothing hand over her hair.

“It’s okay, baby,” your whisper. “That man wasn’t feeling very well. But uncle hobi is helping him. Isn’t that so good? He’s really good at helping people remember. It's okay.”

Jien nods slowly, though her brows are still drawn together in concern. She doesn’t fully understand, but she doesn’t doubt your word, or her uncle's abilities.

Across the large space, Hoseok presses his lips into a thin line, his eyes watching carefully as the man's convulsions finally begin to slow, the violent jerking finally seeming to ease up. But just as the worst seems to have passed…Hoseok stiffens. 

There’s a concerning, deep purplish hue creeping up the man’s neckline, peeking through the gap of his unbuttoned white shirt. Dark veins snaking against his pale skin, spreading like ink through thin cracks. Hoseok swallows hard, alarm bells ringing at the back of his mind. 

That…that doesn’t look right. His medical knowledge kicks in, a thousand possibilities racing through his mind, digging for the most fitting answer. Is it cyanosis? an undiagnosed vascular disease? Possibly an infected wound? blunt trauma?

His mind dashing for answers in an instant, but before he can take a better look and unbutton his shirt completely, after what feels like a lifetime, the piercing wail of sirens cuts right through his thoughts, and just moments after, paramedics burst into the café, pushing past the gathered crowd near the Hoseok and the patient on the floor. Hoseok quickly regains focus, stepping back to allow them to take over. 

“He had a seizure. Approximately a minute long. His breathing is stable but—“ He hesitates for a second, then presses on, giving them a brief diagnosis and rundown. “I think he may have another underlying condition. Possible hypoxia.”

The paramedic beside him nods, wasting no time as they swiftly load him onto a stretcher. He stands back, his jaw tight, fingertips tingling with the urge to do more, watching as they wheel him out through the entrance. The murmurs of the coffee shop begin to start up again, confused and concerned looks turning left and right, but Hoseok can’t shake all the questions in his mind. 

He just hopes the guy turns out to be okay. The same way it goes with every patient he sees. You have to do your part and let go. That's how it works. but this time, he's left with a weird feeling bubbling inside.

After a few minutes, Hoseok turns back to your table. The moment his eyes meet yours, you’re already standing and asking, “God, is everything okay? He’s okay, right?”

“It’s alright,” Hoseok reassures you, though his tone is softer than usual. “They've got it under control.”

His gaze flickers toward Jieun, who’s still clinging to you, her small face twisted in worry as she glances between the two of you. She tugs your sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mommy…what happened to the man?”

“The ambulance people will take care of him and take him to the hospital so they can help him.” You say gently. She blinks up at you, then glances toward Hoseok, as if waiting for confirmation.

Hoseok lips form a small smile, crouching slightly to be at her eye level. “Your mom is right,” he says carefully, patting her head. “Sometimes when people don’t feel well they need a little help. That’s what doctors and nurses are for Jieun. It’s okay.”

Jieun watches him for a moment, and gives him a slow understanding nod. He then straightens and exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs, his gaze flicking back toward the road in front of the entrance where the ambulance is now setting off.

You nod, now feeling a weight of unease in the crowded space. It would probably be best to give them space to handle the situation, and to get some fresh air after that. So you retrieve Jieun's little pink puffer vest from off hobis chair and gently help her arms into, zipping it up snuggly to keep her warm from the afternoon chill, before taking her hand in yours.

As the three of you finally step outside, you're grateful for the crisp autumn air that lifts some of the heaviness off you. God, that was stressful. The distant sounds of the city hum around you, and life moves as if nothing happened.

“God, I hope that guy is okay.” You say quietly only for Hoseok to hear, taking your daughter's hand as you let out a slow breath. “First that weird bird and then that poor guy.”

Hoseok hums in agreement and gives a small reassuring nod, pushing his concerns aside. But you know how hard it is for him to switch off. How even when the emergency is over, his mind replays it again and again, analysing— wondering if he could have done more, if he could’ve done better. Even when he deals with stuff like this everyday, it’s never been easy.

“Jesus Christ. What's that saying, bad things always come in two’s? Three’s? ” He chuckles, letting out a huff. “I told you, there’s never an uneventful day out here.” Hobi shakes his head, forcing a smile to lift the mood. But his body still buzzes with tension. Then, in one swift movement, he scoops Jieun up, swinging her into his arms. “Now, time for ice cream?”

Jieun giggles loudly, kicking her feet excitedly at his words, all her earlier worries forgotten. “Yes!”

“Hobi, she just had a hot chocolate. Do you even have space for ice cream, Jieun?” You say, trying to sound stern, but the sight of them giggling together pulls a real smile out of you. And something inside already tells you you’re going to give in.

“She’s with uncle hobi now, there’s no rules.” He sing songs, walking ahead of you with your daughter in arms, all smiles as she squeals at his gentle tickling. The spitting image of joy if you ever saw it.

And for just a moment, you try to push away the nagging feeling that’s been pressing at the back of your mind. 

Because maybe, just maybe, this time, everything will be just fine after all.

Jungkook steadies his hand, a quiet hiss of pain getting lost in the low thrumming of the tattoo gun that fills the quiet studio, lulling him into that comforting sense of calm he knows so well. It’s a fairly big piece, he’s been here hunched over for hours now, that familiar dull ache creeping up his back, but he barely registers it. Because all that matters is the art taking form beneath his touch. 

Here, in these moments, it's when the feels most himself. Distracted, at peace, In control. Something he’s never found that easy outside of these four walls.

Every stroke, every line falls exactly where he intends it to. In a way, the rest of the world seems to fade away — no worries, just ink and skin, art coming to life. And it grants him a satisfaction nothing else can quite offer. And if there’s one thing Jungkook prides himself on, it’s his work and dedication. He built this place with steady hands and relentless effort, and he knows damn well he’s good at what he does. Confidence hasn't always been second nature to him, but time and experience have definitely sharpened him.

He leans back slightly to take in the work before him, his disheveled strands of dark hair falling over his eyes as he uses a paper towel to wipe up some excess ink from the client's forearm before glancing up. “How are we holding up?”

The young guy shifts in the chair, letting out a breathy chuckle. “Let’s just say I felt that last bit there.”

Jungkook nods, noting the slight sheen of sweat on the guy's forehead. He’s just glad he’s not a squirmer. That shit makes his job so much harder than it needs to be. 

His own body is the canvas of plenty tattoos. All colours, shapes and sizes. He's more than numb to the pain now. But he gets it.

“You’re doing really well. I won’t torture you much longer. We’re almost done with the worst part.” Pressing the pedal again, he feels the familiar vibration travel up his arm, he tongues with his lip piercing, a habit that signals his concentration. His hair is dusting over his eyes as he continues with the last bits of shading and does the final touch ups of all the smaller details. Another forty five minutes pass, broken by lighthearted conversation here and there. Though Jungkook never used to be one for making conversation before, he has long mastered the art of letting his mouth wander while his hands and precision remain steady and focused.

“Alright, and we’re done,” he wipes down the fresh ink one last time before setting the tattoo gun aside, letting out a silent exhale as he wheels back, peeling off his black gloves to grab the aftercare instruction sheet, ready to spew his usual little lecture he knows most people don’t even pay much attention to.

“Sit up slowly.” Jungkook instructs.

When the guy finally stands, he marvels at his tattoo in the mirror. Jungkook feels a flicker of pride swell in his chest. No matter how many times he does this, seeing the completed, polished work and his client's expressions of amazement never gets old. “Looks sick man. Better than I imagined.” He beams, twisting his arm under the light, his smile spreading all across his face.

“Good choice with the design.” Jungkook replies with a faint smile tugging at his lips. He then places the protective film, gives him a quick rundown of the aftercare and hands him the sheet. “Take care of it. Follow the aftercare instructions and it’ll heal nicely. And you know, any issues just come by or give me a call and I’ll check it out.”

“Will do. Thanks man, it’s perfect.”

As the last client of the day slips out with a final wave and he hears the bell over at the entrance ding, Jungkook finally feels the exhaustion set in — the kind that only comes after hours of steady concentrated work. Fuck, he really does need to work on his posture. He stretches his back, then cracks his knuckles, stretching his toned, inked arms over his head. But despite the tiredness, he feels no rush no rush to get back to his empty apartment.

He never does.

Instead, he takes his time wiping down his station, tidying all his clutter and ink in the methodical and organized way only he understands — something Yoongi always grumbles about when borrowing his space. But this is his sanctuary. He makes the rules. And yoongi may complain, but he accepts it.

When he's done cleaning up, Jungkook emerges into the entrance area of the studio, rubbing the back of his neck and ruffling his hair at the nape.

Yoongi stretches in his chair behind the front counter, arms lifting above his head as he lets out as wide yawn, smacking his lips as his eyes land on the younger. “Christ, I thought you were dead in there,” he says deadpan, watching as Jungkook attempts to roll out the tension coiled in his shoulders, stifling a yawn himself. “Or are you? I genuinely can't tell.”

“Very funny.” Jungkook mutters, slumping onto the leather couch with an over dramatic sigh, throwing the back of his arm over his eyes as he lets his body sink into the plush cushion. It’s moments like this he’s really fucking glad they invested in a good sofa. He wants it to swallow him.

“Sure you can survive the schedule tomorrow? We’re fucking packed.” He says.

Jungkook’s brows knit together as his eyes dart over to Yoongi, eyeing the printed schedule in front of him as he rubs his jaw. “What? You think I can't handle it?”

Yoongi shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He coughs into his fist, a rough dry sound that echoes through the quietness of the now empty studio. “I know you think you’re some kind of machine,” he gives the younger a pointed look, “but let me just remind you that you are, in fact, very much not.”

Jungkook's lips quirk. “Woah, woah. I’ll be fine. Unlike someone who sounds like they've caught the plague.” Lifting his arms from his eyes just enough to peer at Yoongi, he swings his arm as if to push him away. “Stay away from me with that. I can’t afford a day off anytime soon.”

Yoongi scoffs, waving a dismissive hand as he coughs into his fist again. “Relax, it's just the dust. Or if you’re lucky enough I've caught that shit going around. Won't be on your case anymore for at least two weeks. That's if I survive.”

The sound is muffled by his arm as Jungkook lets out a tired chuckle, but his eyes remain closed. “Now you’re just trying to get out of work tomorrow, hyung. I know your little tricks.”

“If anyone should be trying to get our work, it should be you. Admit your running on fumes.” Yoongi drops the piece of paper to the desk and crosses his arms, looking right across to Jungkook, his eyes squinting lightly.

Jungkook feels his heavy gaze, but he's not in the mood to face one of Yoongis lectures right now. He can’t exactly argue that. Because he knows Yoongi is not entirely wrong. 

He's working six days a week, morning till night, barely stopping to take a breath. Hell, it would've been the entire seven days of the week if Yoongi hadn’t raised hell the day he suggested it. Jungkook had tried to reason with him, insisting that Yoongi would still get his days off as usual, that he’d open up the studio alone on weekends and get everything sorted for the week ahead. But it was never about that, and he knew it.

Jungkook has always had a knack for picking up self-destructive tendencies. A slow brewing kind of self destruction, pushing himself way past his limits, working himself down to the bone until he can barely function. And Yoongi simply wasn't going to stand back and watch it happen all over again right in front of his eyes.

Most days, he only eats because it’s Yoongi who shoves food his way, whether he wants it or not.  Prepping meals and stashing them away in their mini fridge in the back room where Jungkook can find them, labeled with a little note in his unmistakable messy handwriting that reads “eat.”

Because behind his serious facade, Yoongi had always tried his best to care for him. 

From countless nights of dragging his black out drunk body home back in college, and many times after college as well. To picking him up from the streets at 4 am after he got into a nasty fight, bruised and bleeding and sobbing his heart out alone on an empty sidewalk. Yoongi didn’t question it back then, didn't hesitate. He never does. He just helped quietly with no second thought, allowing him to sit with his silent sobs on the car ride home. He had always been there, offering him a home when he had nowhere else to go, offering everything he had if it helped Jungkook from drowning.

It was Yoongi that had seen the potential in him and had patiently guided him to finally see it for himself, helping him build this studio from nothing — helping him build every piece of furniture, putting up every shelf, painting every wall, making sure Jungkook finally had something to call his. 

And now, despite all the hardships, he’s come further than they both could have imagined.

Yet deep down, Yoongi knows no amount of help can stop Jungkook from being who he is, not when he has it so deeply rooted in himself to self sabotage in every way he possibly can. It's simply how he’s wired. Yoongi has long accepted that some things are simply beyond his reach, and that Jungkook won’t ever fully change. And he may never admit it out loud, but somewhere in his heart, as the eldest, he’s always felt an unspoken weight of responsibility for Jungkook. That's why he tries relentlessly to guide him towards better choices.

Even though Jungkook has matured and come a long way from his troubled past and the reckless kid he used to be, he’s far from eradicating his bad habits entirely. He knows he’s working himself down to the bone. He knows it's not healthy. Unrealistic for him to sustain in the long run. But he doesn’t like himself when he’s unoccupied. 

He doesn't like the quiet.

Because when there’s silence, there’s space for his mind to make noise.

So that’s what he does. He works, works until he can exhaust himself to the point of passing out, too drained to even feel. It means no thoughts can haunt him when his head hits the pillow. And he’s okay with that.

Besides, he loves his job. That's a fact. The only thing he’s passionate about. All he’s ever found himself to be good at. He doesn’t need anything or anyone else. 

Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“Fumes are still fuel,” Jungkook shoots back. He reaches behind his head to grab an old vintage manga off the small side table, flipping through the pages without really reading.

Yoongi studies him for a moment, his sharp gaze softening just a fraction. He shifts in his seat, resting his elbows on the counter, zeroing in on him as if he were ready to throw out a serious scolding, like he did back when he was a kid. But his next words are nothing but gentle. “You know, if you wanna keep up with that schedule, you’re gonna need sleep. I can close up if you wanna head out first.”

Jungkooks expression falters — just a flicker. But he covers it with an exaggerated groan. It does get on his nerves ever so slightly, just slightly. What is it with everyone always underestimating him? Treating him like he's not capable of making his own decisions. But his tongue toys with his lip ring as he continues flicking through the pages, feigning nonchalance. “I’m good. I wanna sketch out a few new designs first. Got some ideas ratting around.”

Yoongi squints at him, clearly unconvinced. “You do know that old couch isn't a substitute for a bed, right? and you could just…do that at home.”

Jungkook tosses the comic aside as he shrugs, already bored of the conversation, his inked fingers drumming relentlessly against the worn red leather. “I focus better here.” Is his simple answer, but before Yoongi can speak, a loud siren cuts through their conversation, blaring jarringly as it flashes by across the street. Almost instantly another follows, and then another.

Instinctively, both of their heads turn towards the window, though it only gives view to a small glimpse of the larger front street, most of their view blocked by the building across from them, all they can see is the bright lights flashing as they rush past.

“The hell’s that about,” Yoongi mutters, straightening in his chair.

Jungkook furrows his brows, pushing himself up on his elbows to get a better look outside. But from what he can see, everything seems normal enough — cars passing by, people going about their night and a few students heading home from late study sessions. Nothing in particular out of the ordinary.

The studio is located on a fairly quiet smaller side street, on the outskirts of the city, just a little further from the booming heart of Seoul. It’s never as busy or chaotic here, much quieter.

“Accident, maybe?” Jungkook guesses, a tired breath slipping past his lips. It’s still Seoul after all. When is it ever completely quiet? 

Yoongi hums in agreement, but as if on cue, another set of sirens blares through the streets, overlapping with others as the noise grows, this time it’s police cars too, wailing violently and urgently before fading into the distance as they speed away. Jungkook glances at Yoongi, who meets his gaze with an equally puzzled expression.

“Must be pretty bad.” Jungkook says.

Yoongi just pulls out his phone to check the time and sighs. “Well, whatever it is, I'm not sticking around to find out.” He pushes himself to his feet, patting his back pocket to pull out his dented pack of cigarettes before reaching for his jacket draped over the back of the chair.

A slight sense of uneasiness crawls up Jungkook's spine. That was about four ambulances and three police cars if not more. That’s….that’s a lot. But he soon brushes it off. “I’ll check the news later.” He mumbles, letting his heavy body drop back against the soft cushion, with no energy or intention to move.

Yoongi tugs his jacket on, tossing him a small glance. “Well, if you’re gonna stay here, at least don’t fall asleep on that damn couch again. You drool, and it’s gross.”

Jungkook chuckles, though it's half hearted. “I won’t ruin your sacred couch, hyung. Don't you worry.”

“Good.” Yoongi deadpans, heading toward the door. He flips the neon sign to closed before turning back to Jungkook once more, his tired features softening just a touch. “Don't stay too late. Tomorrow is fucking packed and you’ll regret it when youre half dead in the morning. And don’t forget about that girl you booked in at 9.”

He presses his eyes shut for a moment, letting out a breath. The girl needed some touch ups to her tattoo but had a busy schedule and no time to visit any other day or at ay other time. So Jungkook did the favour, and offered to book her in before opening time. But fuck. He really does need to stop bending his schedule for people.

He knows he’s going to regret it.

Jungkook just waves a dismissive hand, already getting comfy on the couch. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll leave soon.”

Yoongi doesn't believe him, but he doesn't argue, just pulls out a cigarette from the pack and raises his hands in surrender before he pulls open the door. “Alright. See you tomorrow.”

Jungkook hums in acknowledgement. “Rest up, Hyung.”

The studio fades to dead silence once the door closes. Though sirens still echo faintly in the background.

Stretched out on the couch, Jungkook stares at the ceiling a little longer than necessary. His limbs feel heavy, exhaustion pressing down on him heavily. He wants to work on those sketches, he wants to push his limits a little further. But his body seems to know what's best for him. And within minutes, he’s passed out.

When Jungkook’s eyes crack open, it’s to the gentle sound of rain pattering against the windows. But it’s not rain the noise that woke him. Distant voices shout over one another, and the erratic wailing of car alarms and sirens blast in a near distance, sounding like he’s still stuck between consciousness and a dream. Jungkook blinks, then suddenly, screeching tires follow into a loud crash, something heavy and metal hitting the pavement. His heart spikes, and his body jerks up instantly before his mind can register what the hell is going on. The sudden movement makes him lightheaded, blinking as he tries to shake the disorientation fogging his mind.

Shit. How long had he been out?

He curses under his breath, his head throbbing. Did someone just fucking crash their car outside? In his dazed state his fingers fumble for his phone in the front pocket of his jeans. He squints, the bright screen glaring back at him painfully in the darkness of the studio.

11:48 PM.

The first thought that comes to mind is drunk people causing a ruckus. It certainly wouldn't be unusual for Friday night. But then… he stops to listen. Are they breaking in? then his mind steers more towards the possibility of some petty street fight, or some idiots causing trouble. It’s the only conclusion his sleepy can come to.

But then, he hears it. 

Raw, panicked, screams erupting from the streets outside. It sounds close. Really close.

What the fuck? 

Jungkook feels a sickening pit form in his stomach.

Because that's definitely not the drunken shouts of a fight, not the sound of some petty fight or a car accident. It’s the kind of scream that crawls under your skin. And Jungkook knows the sounds of panic when he hears it. He feels his heart beating in his chest now, fast and strong. Something isn’t right. Before his mind can think  further, he pushes off the couch and yanks his leather jacket from the armrest, pulling it on in a swift motion, feeling a little dizzy as the room slowly begins to spin from getting up so fast. 

Behind the front counter he crouches, reaching for his motorcycle helmet. But his grip isn't steady, his palms suddenly feel a bit sweaty. The air in the room slightly suffocating.

His mind scrambles as he finally strides for the door, all he knows something is telling him he needs to get out. He’s ready to leave and check on what's happening outside, but just as his fingers brush the cold metal door handle—

A loud bang crashes into the large front window of the studio.

The impact rattles the entire front window, the glass shuddering violently as something smacks right into it with bone crushing force, causing large cracks to expand from the center like a spiderweb, blooming outwards across the glass. The helmet drops to the ground with a loud thud and Jungkook stumbles back in the darknesses, almost crashing back into the front counter as his breath gets stuck in his throat.

Jungkook freezes. His entire body completely paralyzed as he watches a thick, dark gush of red begin to trail down the ruins of the window. His eyes slowly follow it upwards and then…then he sees it.

A face, wedged between the shards of glass.

Jungkook sees the face of a man...except, it can't be. The skin is unnaturally pale, sickly white, dark veins bulging beneath the surface, tiny pieces of glass wedged everywhere into its flesh. Blood coats its entire mouth, dripping to the floor beneath — but it's the eyes… They send a shot of terror right down Jungkook's spine. 

They’re clouded and gray, almost white and eerily vacant, yet somehow, they’re locked right onto him.

Jungkook feels like he can’t take a breath, his chest tight as his eyes grow with complete shock and confusion.

Then, it moves.

Its head twitches in a slow agonized form before it seems to fully register Jungkook's figure standing right across. It cocks his head towards him completely with a grotesque sound of craking and lunges forward, slamming its hands against the glass with inhuman strength. Giving it all his power to break inside. It lets out another groan, a guttural broken sound as it reveals a row of blood stained teeth, the deep red liquid dripping from its mouth.

Jungkook swallows hard. If he moves will it move too? Will it...chase him? He feels like no oxygen is reaching his lungs, or his brain, his mind struggling to even process what he is seeing. That…that can't be real. It can’t be human. All he can do is watch as his heartbeat pounds like a hammer in his chest, louder than the sirens and screams growing outside, louder than the animalistic banging against the window.

That…thing is trying to kill him. It’s going to kill him.

It doesn’t stop. It claws at the glass, smearing the blood, desperate, mindless — growing more violent as it seems to realise its stuck. But the glass creaks more with each hit, trembling under the pressure of each movement, and Jungkook realizes it might not hold up much longer. He has no time.

Move.

He has to move.

Like a spring snapping, his body finally kicks into action. He stumbles backwards, feeling glass beneath his shoes as he tries to hold in a breath, his eyes fixed on the creature as he tries to back away with steady steps. After a beat, he sprints towards the back of the studio, running as his body pushes through the beaded curtain into the back room. 

His hands fumble frantically in his pocket — keys, keys, keys — but his hands are trembling too much to grip them. Fuck.

Jungkooks mind races with a thousand questions colliding all at once. But none of them make sense. None of them are even remotely rational.

That thing. It wasn’t human. Then what the hell was it?

Another jarring bang echoes in the studio, followed by a loud screech. But Jungkook doesn’t look up. He doesn’t have time. His only thought is to get out of here. Fast. He needs to get away from whatever the fuck that is. He needs to get to his motorcycle. He needs to get the police.

His fingers finally curl around cold metal. The keys. With a sharp inhale, he yanks opens the heavy back door leading into the tiny side alley and slams it shut behind him as he rushes out.

It’s dim, lit only by a flickering street lamp near the end, casting eerie shadows across the brick walls. The air is cool and damp, the smell of rain fresh on the damp asphalt and the sound of sirens and shouting voices in the distance become even clearer than before. But Jungkook can't see the one thing he’s looking for. His gaze darts around frantically and he feels a dreadful realization claw at his throat. 

His motorcycle is gone. The spot where it’s always parked is empty. 

Jungkook panics, his hands coming to his hair. Fuck, fuck, fuck. As he looks around helplessly, his breath only grows more erratic. He finds no other option but to run, so he runs to the end of the alleyway, running right towards the screams and tumult, and when he reaches the end, the scene unfolding before him almost kicks him to his feet.

The once quiet street had turned into a horrifying scene. People mindlessly running away from something. But what his eyes land on almost immediately is on a young woman in the middle of street, clutching her neck with both hands, her body swaying as she chokes out for help before she drops to her knees, her body shaking. Jungkook watches in horror as someone else runs right past her, coming from the same direction, white button up shirt soaked in something dark as his features display a kind of terror he’d never witnessed before. Across the street, an older man is pulling down the storefront gates as he locks himself inside, letting two kids in high school uniforms scream and kick as they beg to be let in, screaming and crying.

“What the fuck...” the words escape involuntarily in a quiet mumble to himself, his hands coming to his head.

Jungkook blinks repeatedly, completely aghast. But he doesn’t think— just moves, bolting down the street. His thick leather boots slam against the wet pavements as he runs, his dark hair blows in the air, his skin covered in a layer of sweat as he weaves past a fallen trash can and then a body, his breath ragged as he tries not to slip on the broken glass. The rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins too strong to even feel his body protesting.

Rounding a corner, he nearly collides into another person, but his hands instinctively come up to push them away, almost knocking them to the ground. He doesn’t have a space in his mind to think about it or time to dwell on it. His body acting on autopilot. The more he runs, the more people seem to be running in the opposite direction. Away from something. His legs burn as he sprints faster, but coming off onto the main street of Jongno, he comes to a halt as he takes in the state of the streets, pupils blown as something terrible dawns on his expression.

The city is in shambles.

Everything.

Chaos.

Cars sit abandoned in the middle of the road, their doors flung open, some have crashed into street lamps and traffic signs, into each other at intersections, even buildings, the smoke clouding up into the dark sky. Blending with the red and blue of wailing sirens. People are everywhere. Hundreds of people are running in all different directions — some screaming, some covered in blood, some sobbing and some seemingly unmoving on the ground. Pushing and tripping against each other, running, but most don’t even know what they’re running from, simply following the crowd. 

How many more of those rabid people were there? How far had this spread? 

He wants so badly to be wrong, but something deep inside him tells him this is something big.

He stills for an instant, trying to orientate himself. He scans the street hurriedly for the best route to avoid getting stuck in a crush, to avoid more of those things…but all he sees is the panicked chaos spreading by the second. 

Jungkook feels like he’s outside of his body, like this is a dream, a nightmare he’ll wake up from any second now. He closed his eyes for a second and inwardly prays for it to be just a bad dream. But the air is thick with the acrid scent of smoke and blood, and the pounding in his chest is too real. The world around him still screams, set aflame.

This can’t be real.

This…this can’t be happening.

Just a few meters away from him two figures wrestle on the ground — except one of them isn’t fighting back anymore, and the other is hunched over them, their head buried in the victim’s throat. Jungkook staggers back, his stomach lurching at the gut wrenching sounds of someone being mauled alive, bile burning the back of his throat when he watches infected pulls back, large chunks of flesh dangling from its bloody mouth, dripping crimson.

The truth slams into him, but his mind is till fighting to accept it.

People are killing people. Eating people. Except…they're not people. They’re monsters.

Jungkook scans the crowd for an escape route, desperate. After a moment, he catches sight of the least crowded street, it's right on the way to his place. He takes a sharp breath and runs, runs non stop down a dozen blocks. But as he navigates the frantic roads, he spots something as he runs past a small street. Stopping him in his tracks. He notices a tiny figure huddled up alone at the beginning of an alleyway, wearing bright pink, shoulders trembling and hands pressed over her ears as she sobs violently. 

A child, no older than three or four if Jungkook had to guess. He halts, heart pounding as he registers her small frightened face, streaked with tears. 

He should keep running, he knows he should. His body is urging him to just keep moving, his insides shaking with adrenaline. That’s not his responsibility. He hasn’t stopped for anyone. But the burning images of what he’s just witnessed flash fresh in his mind. And something deeper roots him in place. Something inside him twists, snaps almost, an unfamiliar instinct that overrides his own confusion and fear.

Ah, fuck it. 

Before his mind can catch up with what he’s doing, he rushes into the alley, approaching the child cautiously with slow steps as he gets closer. He crouches down to her level, looking over his shoulder nervously. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” his voice is gentle but hurried as he searches her face. “Where are your parents? Are you lost?”

The small girl just looks up at him with large, wet eyes and a trembling pout, her hands balled into tiny fists. She doesn’t answer, just stares, whimpering and hiccuping softly, like she’s been warned to not talk to strangers — especially not ones clothed head to toe in black, covered in tattoos and piercings like himself. He glances around, hoping to see someone rushing towards them, any sign of this child's parents so he can just hand her over and run, but there’s nothing, just the crowd at the end of the alley pushing past in frantic waves and yelling, no one stopping to even look in their direction. 

He has to do something.

“Do you…where did you see your parents last-” a loud metal bang echoes in the distance, making Jungkook and the child flinch, a heavy breath escaping him. Fuck, his mind races as he realizes she’s truly alone. The girl just sobs more and he curses under his breath, eyes pressed shut as his mind scrambles for what to do.

He can’t just leave her alone in whatever the hell this is. But what the hell is he supposed to do?

“Uh, alright,” he coughs, throat dry, and speaks softly but hurriedly, trying to mask his unease as he reaches out his hand. “Come with me. It’s not safe here. I’ll… I'll help you find your parents.”

He’ll take her home, get her out of danger and call the police. That’s what he should do. 

It’s the right thing to do.

Okay. 

He hopes she knows he’s only trying to help. God, his pulse races every second he’s standing here still. They need to move. Now. She just stares at him, uncertain, then slowly reaches out with her tiny fingers, clasping his much larger hand with a surprising grip. She must see past his intimidating exterior, or be so terrified that she’ll take up any offer of being reunited with her parents, either way, her innocence makes Jungkook's heart sting a little. He can't just leave a child out here, he has to help her before something terrible happens to her or she falls into the wrong hands. He doesn't know what the hell to do, all he knows is they have to run, run right now and get away from this, and-

Suddenly, a piercing, desperate voice breaks through the havoc of noise, loud enough to catch Jungkook's attention.

“Jieun!” 

The sound makes his entire body lock up, his heart jumping in his chest as he turns toward the voice. 

Running towards him, just feet away, eyes filled with worry and tears, he sees you.

Jungkook feels the blood drain from his face. 

For a split moment, the world seems to fall silent. The noise, the screams and chaos, the sirens — all of it blurs into a distant hum in the back of his mind. He feels like the air is knocked straight from his lungs as he slowly takes in your face, a slightly more matured version of a face he once knew every inch of, a face he’d buried away along with every memory he’d tried so hard everyday to annihilate ever since you disappeared from his life. A face he could never forget, not even after four painful years.

It can’t be.

No, no, no-

But it’s real, because there you are. Lunging forward and arms out reaching for the little girl beside him with thick tears of relief flooding from your eyes. The child lets go of Jungkook's hand instantly and her tiny feet pat across the concrete as she launches herself into your embrace, leaving him behind to watch, frozen and stone cold like a statue. 

“Mommy!” She cries.

Jungkook feels his stomach drop. He thinks he's going to throw up.

He must’ve heard that incorrectly.

Mommy? That child is…

He feels like he can’t move, blood cold as he watches you crumble to your knees, gathering the little girl into your arms with a grip that looks suffocating, as if she might disappear into thin air again. Your whole frame trembles as you hold her close, relief pouring from you in loud, choked sobs, your fingers getting tangled in her wet hair as you comb though it desperately.

That’s.. your child?

“Jieun, oh my god, baby. You’re here, you’re okay,” your voice cracks with all the pain your body just underwent, whispering against her temple. “Are you hurt? You’re not hurt are you, baby?”

The last thing you remember is being in the convenience store when the chaos began. When you walked out you had no choice but to run into the crowd. How Jieun was holding your hand and in the blink of an eye, her hand slipped from yours. You turned back, screaming her name, but she was gone, just another small figure lost in the stampede of a city falling apart.

By the time you fought your way out of the crowd, Jieun was nowhere in sight. Your heart is still hammering loudly between your ribs, mind stuck on the past horrifying minutes since she disappeared from your side.

But as you finally look up… all your relief shifts, eyes darkening with shocking realisation that mirrors the expression in the man standing just feet away when you. Heart hammering in your chest as if it recognized him before your eyes do.

You blink once, twice to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. Completely distraught.

If Jungkook thought he was stuck in a bad dream before, he’s certain now this is all a cruel, sick and twisted nightmare. He feels his stomach churn. The weight of clashing emotions and utter disbelief thrown over him. So many questions he can’t yet voice crashing into him like a bucket of ice cold water, making his blood run cold.

This has to be some kind of sick joke. 

All of it. 

“Jungkook?” Your voice trembles, barely a whisper, as if the sound of his name out loud might shatter you to pieces.

He’s standing in front of you, drenched from the rain, his wet dark hair hanging messily in his face — so much longer than it used to be. He has new piercings on his face, and his features have definitely matured. He looks…different, yet somehow exactly how you remember him. His big dark eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, you feel your world stop. 

“Y/n?” His voice cracks slightly, like he’s just been punched in the gut. “Wh…what are you doing here?” but there’s no anger in his voice, just confusion, and perhaps, a hint of something painful. His words hang heavy between you, getting lost in the sounds of the burning city beyond this tiny street, and you feel a paralysing weight on your chest. Your mind reeling beyond comprehension.

You open your mouth to speak, ready to say something, anything. But you feel like you’ve forgotten how to form words. So you close it again, no words come out. His eyes flicker from your face to the little girl clutching your side, and you feel a pit sinking in your stomach. God, please no.

This can’t be happening — not here, not now. 

Not like this.

You want to bolt, to run and not look back like you always do. You wish the earth would just swallow you entirely. But all you can do is stand there, your heart pounding faster in your chest, mouth dry.

You try to step around him, desperate to move forward, to escape this horror. But before you know it, his hand catches your arm. He grips you gently, but with a force that indicates he won’t let you slip away again. His touch almost makes you fall to your knees.

“Come with me.” 

Your body stiffens at his words, and you swat your arm loose of his grip. You lift Jieun into your arms instinctively, fingers curling around her small body as if the mere act of holding her can shield you from everything. From him, from all the pain, from all of this living nightmare.

“No,” you say, the word coming out broken, like your breath is caught. “I can’t go with you. I need- I need to get hobi-” 

“My apartment isn’t far,” he cuts in, not giving you space to say more. “We need to get off the streets.’’

You hesitate, watching his gaze scurry between you both again. Everything in you is telling you to just run, to put as much distance as you can between yourself and Jungkook. Willing this conversation to die before it can even begin. Before he can start asking questions you’re not ready to answer. Before you have to face things you’ve already buried deep. Before it’s too late.

You need to leave. But Jieun is shaking, clutching onto you for dear life as she whimpers against your chest, and the sounds of screams still ringing in your ears. And there’s infected everywhere. You’re stuck in the middle of a warzone, and you have no idea what to do, no idea where to go.

All you know is you need to get Jieun out of this. Away from danger.

“Have you not seen what the fuck is going on? People have gone fucking insane!” His tone grows harsher now, trying to knock some sense into you. “We need to move.”

A gut wrenching scream echoes from somewhere beyond the alley, closer than before this time. Too close. 

Jungkook swears under his breath, running a hand through his hair, torn between a storm of brewing emotions and the immediate danger closing in. His jaw tightens as he looks behind him then back to you. “Y/n, we need to go. Now.”

You shake your head violently, and you can feel hushed tears burning behind your eyes. You can’t breathe, can’t think clearly. All you can feel is Jieun trembling in your arms.

“Please-” his voice drops, raw and desperate. Almost a plea.

And don’t know when or why it happens, but the next thing you know, your feet are moving. You’re running with everything you have left in you.

Somehow, the world is ending, and you’re allowing yourself to be guided by Jungkook down streets devoured by chaos, heading to the only safe place around you. 

His home.

➵ taglist: @amatun28 @ahgasegotarmy116 @knjs95s @jeoncookiebar @badaspice @lachimolalajeon @tearykth @lovingkoalaface @jcrl99 @hellbornsworld @mortqlprojections @xumyboo @honeymeraki @justanarchiveforfics @iamnotdrunk420 @iveivory @k-p0p-4ever @jksjx @yoonberriez @lotustv @hannahmae18 @eclipsethemagic @bybyash @rjooniesdimples @minimoninini @satisfied18 @pinkpunkdynamite @jheneeko @sungiesworld27 @neuviloved @somehowukook @iohwa-com @lola75111 @hanversace @ot7even @rie-pdf @futuristicenemychaos @chl0buggy @happycheesecakedelusion @busanbby-jjk @minyoongi7016 @stellamalonesolaria @qyurryus-m @ex7stance @dchimminie

[skzstarl0ver]

⋆.˚✮𝗕𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗧𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗼𝗼✮˚.⋆

Jungkook x reader / tattoo artist x client / one shot / smut

**involves!!** sexual content, tattoos/needles, consensual tension, dirty talk, body worship, cursing, praise kink

enjoy xx (open for request)

★.•☆•.★★.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★ skzstarl0ver ★⡀.•☆•.★⡀.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★

You weren’t even nervous when you walked into 'Black In' — the private tattoo studio hidden in a converted loft space downtown. You had done your research. You’d seen his work on Instagram: precise, flowing, artistic. What you weren’t prepared for was him.

Jeon Jungkook stood behind the counter, arms crossed, tattoos peeking from beneath a sleeveless black tank, a silver ring glinting from his lip, and his dark eyes swept over you like he already had plans.

“So,” he said, voice smooth and low, “you’re here for the back piece?”

You nodded, heart stammering as you handed over your design idea — a cool, sharp-looking design that goes across the back from one side to the other. His fingers brushed yours when he took the sketch. You felt that spark in your spine before the ink even touched skin.

He had you take off your shirt and bra in the private back room, handing you a towel to wrap around your front. The leather tattoo bed was cool against your skin, and the soft buzz of the machine started low, almost like anticipation humming in the air.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured near your ear, gloves snapping on. “I’ll take care of you.”

Your breath caught at the way he said it.

The first sting of the needle was sharp, but manageable. Jungkook’s hand was steady, his free palm sometimes resting at your hip or spine to keep you grounded. You weren’t sure what turned you on more — the pain-pleasure of the ink, or the soft praise he murmured every time you twitched.

“You’re doing so well,” he said once, breath hot against your bare shoulder. “So fucking beautiful like this.”

You whimpered, pressing your cheek into the padded table.

Halfway through, he paused. “Need a break?”

You nodded. He helped you sit up, towel slipping slightly. His gaze dropped, darkening — then met your eyes like he’d been waiting for a green light.

“You keep squirming like that, baby, and I’m gonna think you want more than a tattoo.”

Your breath hitched, heart hammering as his words settled over you like smoke. The towel clung to your front, barely covering anything. You felt his gaze drag across your skin — hungry, unhurried.

“And if I do?” you whispered.

Silence crackled between you. His gloves were off in seconds.

Jungkook stepped closer, one tattooed hand trailing up your spine, stopping just below the fresh ink. His touch didn’t press — just hovered, close enough to raise goosebumps. His other hand gently tilted your chin until your eyes met his.

“Then I need you to tell me right now,” he said, low and firm. “Do you want me to touch you, baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed, already arching toward him. “Please.”

That was all it took.

He kissed you — slow, claiming, tongue sliding into your mouth like he had all the time in the world. You whimpered against his lips as the towel slipped from your chest. His hands roamed, calloused fingers cupping your breasts, teasing the nipples until they peaked and a needy moan spilled from your throat.

“You sound so fucking sweet,” he groaned, biting down gently on your lower lip before kissing down your neck.

He guided you back onto the leather table, flat on your stomach. His lips trailed from the nape of your neck down your spine, careful to avoid the fresh lines of your tattoo. When he reached your lower back, he paused, large hands spreading your thighs open.

"Keep still for me," he murmured. "You said you trusted me to take care of you."

You nodded, trembling, already soaked.

Jungkook sank to his knees behind the table and pulled your hips to the edge. You gasped when his tongue touched you — soft, teasing strokes that turned quickly into firm, wet licks against your clit. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you open as he feasted on you like he’d been starving for days.

You moaned his name, hands gripping the table, your hips rocking against his face. He sucked your clit just right — a filthy, perfect rhythm — then pulled back only to slap it gently, the sound echoing in the quiet studio.

“You taste so good,” he muttered against your folds. “Bet you’ve been thinking about this since you booked the appointment.”

You barely had time to answer before two of his fingers slid inside you, curling upward. You cried out, back arching, careful not to shift too much near the tattoo. Jungkook noticed, kissing your neck.

“I’ll be gentle with the ink, baby,” he said. “But the rest of you? Mine.”

He stood, undoing his jeans one-handed as he looked down at you, all flushed and panting on the table. You turned your head, watching the way he stroked himself — slow and thick, precum glistening at the tip.

He lined himself up behind you and leaned over your back, lips brushing your ear.

“Tell me you want it.”

“Jungkook,” you gasped, “please—fuck me.”

That was it.

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you open. The burn was delicious. He groaned deep in his chest when he bottomed out, hands gripping your waist.

“So fucking tight,” he growled.

He set a rhythm — slow at first, deep and deliberate, every thrust rocking the table under you. You whimpered, your body already close from his mouth alone. He wrapped a hand around to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, voice hot against your shoulder.

“Let me hear you come,” he said. “Want to feel you fall apart on me.”

You did — gasping his name like a prayer, your thighs shaking, cunt clenching around him as your orgasm tore through you. Jungkook swore under his breath, fucking you through it until he was right there with you — pulsing hot and thick inside you with a low, satisfied groan.

He stayed there for a moment, breath heavy, hands stroking your hips like you were something precious.

Eventually, he pulled out gently, grabbing a clean towel and wiping you down. He was tender, even reverent, making sure not to touch the fresh tattoo. When he helped you sit up, he wrapped your towel back around you, then offered you a water bottle from the mini fridge nearby.

You blinked at him, dazed and blissed out.

“That a standard part of the aftercare routine?” you teased, voice hoarse.

He grinned — smug and gorgeous.

“No,” he said, handing you a card with his name and number scribbled across the back. “But I offer... custom packages for certain clients.”

[dzckling]

like or reblog if you save or use.

[jkvjimin]

I'ma light it up like dynamite

[cr. namuspromised]

[nikixkoo]

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐄

pairing: jungkook x f!reader.

word count: 7.7k

content warnings: mentions of smoking.

a/n: hi! it’s niki here. 𐙚 honestly, i created this story from my longing for a romantic love. i didn’t plan for it to be this long, but i guess i let myself be carried away by the feeling of the moment. i hope u enjoy it and that u’re able to feel all the emotions i tried to convey! lots of love, muak. ≽^•⩊•^≼

He found peace in her quiet. She found forever in his touch.

summary: He spends his days marking people’s skin with the stories they carry. You spend yours surrounded by stories written long before you.

His world hums with noise; yours, with silence. But somewhere between the chaos and calm, you found each other, and now, you’ve built a life where both can exist.

There’s love in the mundane. Healing in the quiet. And in every brush of his fingers and every turn of your page, a language only the two of you speak.

The late afternoon sun filters through the front windows of your bookstore, casting golden light across worn wooden floors and the rows of mismatched tables. There’s a familiar hum in the air: the gentle clink of mugs, soft murmurs of conversation, the occasional page turning. You’ve always loved this hour, when the rush slows down and the light settles like honey across everything.

You wipe down the counter slowly, eyes half-focused on the mug in your hand. Or rather, pretending to be focused, because your attention has drifted again, like it always does when he’s in the room.

Jungkook is sitting at a table near the front, half turned toward his friend as he speaks, his laugh spilling out across the space like sunlight. He’s loud, he always is, but it’s never too much. Not to you. He talks with his whole body, hands moving in quick bursts, tattoos on full display where the sleeves of his black tee are pushed up to his elbows. There’s a half-empty iced americano beside him, a sketchbook lying forgotten near the edge of the table. His smile is wide and unguarded, the kind that makes his nose scrunch and his eyes disappear.

You don’t even realize you’re smiling too until you catch your reflection in the glass behind the counter.

God, he’s beautiful. And loud. And a little ridiculous. And still, somehow, yours.

Your chest swells quietly with something warm and heavy. Not the fluttery rush of new love, but the settled, soft ache of the kind that’s stayed. The kind that folds into your life without asking, fits into your quiet without taking up too much space. He belongs in this place, even if he doesn’t match it. Ink, leather and cigarette smoke in a room that smells like cinnamon, old books, and roasted beans, and somehow, he still fits.

He throws his head back laughing at something his friend says, and you swear you can feel it from across the room. That joy, that light.

Your cat, curled up on a stack of used poetry books behind the register, lets out a soft yawn, tail flicking against your elbow. You reach down, brushing your fingers over her fur.

It’s just an ordinary day in your bookstore. But he’s here. Laughing. Existing. Loving you, even without touching you.

And somehow, that’s everything.

Jungkook’s friend is slipping on his coat as the two of them walk toward the counter, deep in conversation. Their laughter has softened now, like they’re slowly re-entering your quiet world.

You glance up just as they reach you, and the friend grins, lifting a hand in an easy wave.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he says, nodding toward you. “And for letting me hang out here all afternoon. Place is still perfect.”

You smile, already fond of him. He’s one of the few friends of Jungkook’s who always treats your little shop like something sacred. “You’re always welcome.”

He glances between you and Jungkook, something teasing in his eyes. “Alright, I’ll leave you two alone. See you both soon?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, offering a fist bump. “Tell Hyun I said hi.”

“Will do.” And then the friend leans a little closer across the counter to say quietly to you, “Take care of him, yeah?”

You laugh softly, nodding. “Always.”

He sends one last wave before heading for the door. The bell above rings, and then it’s just the two of you.

You don’t get a second to pretend you’re busy, because the moment the door swings shut, Jungkook turns fully toward you, eyes warm and crinkled at the corners.

And before he says anything, he leans in and presses a soft, brief kiss to your lips. Not rushed, not dramatic. Just gentle and familiar, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You blink up at him when he pulls back, lips still tingling.

His voice is low when he finally speaks. “You looked so pretty behind the counter, I had to kiss you.”

Your heart does something. That quiet ache again, warm and steady. You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the way you’re smiling.

“Shut up,” you mumble, cheeks flushed.

He just smirks. “Make me.”

You shake your head, still blushing as you turn to busy your hands with the coffee cups again, though he’s already seen through you.

Jungkook leans his elbows on the counter, chin in one hand, watching you with that lazy little smile he saves just for moments like this.

“Busy day?” he asks, voice quieter now, like he’s already syncing with the rhythm of your space.

You nod, still half-turned. “Mhm, kind of. The morning was slow, but it picked up around lunch. That girl with the poetry obsession came back again, third time this week.”

He hums. “She’s the one who sits in the window seat, right? Leaves lipstick prints on the mugs.”

“That’s her,” you say, lips twitching. “I don’t even bother scrubbing them anymore.”

He laughs softly. “Honestly? Respect.”

You glance over at him, eyes soft. “What about you? Did you work today?”

He nods. “Couple of appointments this morning. Finished that phoenix piece I was telling you about.”

“Oh, the one with the color gradients?” you ask, interest lighting your expression.

“That’s the one.” He leans in a little, like he’s about to tell you a secret. “Took me six hours. I barely moved.”

Your eyes widen. “You’re insane.”

He shrugs, but there’s pride in his smirk. “You love it.”

“I love you, not your questionable choices.”

He grins wide at that, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. Just that quiet stretch of air between you, filled with everything unsaid and everything already known.

Then, he speaks again. “I missed you today.”

You blink, surprised. “You were here all afternoon.”

“I know,” he says, gaze warm. “Still missed you.”

Your heart gives the gentlest ache again. You reach across the counter, brushing your fingers against his. He hooks his pinky around yours like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

And maybe it is.

You don’t know how long you stand there like that, pinkies tangled across the counter, the rest of the world soft and far away. But eventually, the spell breaks with the rustle of a customer’s bag and the quiet scrape of a chair being tucked in.

Jungkook glances toward the front of the shop. “Closing time?”

You sigh, glancing at the clock. “Almost. Fifteen more minutes.”

He hums like he’s considering something. “Wanna cheat and call it now? I’ll help.”

You tilt your head at him. “You’ll help?”

He holds a hand over his heart. “Swear on my life. I’m excellent at stacking chairs.”

You can’t help but laugh, grabbing the rag you’d left beside the espresso machine. “Fine. But I’m docking your imaginary paycheck if you slack off.”

He grins and pushes away from the counter with dramatic flair. “Deal.”

It’s quiet teamwork after that. Him collecting mugs and wiping down tables, you tallying up the register and shutting off the coffee machine. The air smells like cinnamon and espresso, the soft indie playlist still humming faintly in the background. Everything feels calm. Easy.

Your cat, still asleep on the poetry books, stirs when you dim the overhead lights. She stretches long and slow, then hops off the stack with practiced elegance, trailing you as you move toward the front door.

Jungkook’s already flipped the sign to Closed, and now he’s crouched near the counter, fingers reaching out to scratch behind the cat’s ears.

“She rules this place,” he says, glancing up at you.

“She lets me think I’m in charge,” you reply with a smile, grabbing your coat.

When everything’s locked up and your bag is slung over your shoulder, you meet him by the door. He’s holding it open already, one hand reaching for yours without even thinking. It fits easily in his.

The street outside is quiet, the sky painted in that deep indigo that comes right before night fully settles in. A gentle breeze moves through your hair as you step outside, his thumb brushing back and forth over your knuckles.

“Let’s go home,” he murmurs.

The sidewalk glows gold beneath the streetlights, and the world feels slowed down, like the night is stretching itself out just for the two of you.

Jungkook’s hand is still laced with yours, warm and steady. You walk in comfortable silence for a few blocks, the only sounds being your footsteps and the distant hum of a car passing now and then.

When you reach the corner by the florist that always closes too early, he slows just a bit and slips his hand free.

You already know why.

Without a word, he pulls a cigarette from the crumpled pack in his back pocket and tucks it between his lips. You watch as he lights it with practiced ease, the flick of the flame reflecting briefly in his eyes.

He takes a slow drag, exhales like he’s been holding something in all day.

You don’t say anything. You just walk a little closer, your shoulder brushing his as the smoke drifts upward and disappears into the night.

He looks over at you, lips quirking. “You okay?”

You nod. “Mhm.”

He gestures toward you with the cigarette, smiling. “You always get quiet when I smoke.”

“It’s not the smoking… it’s the way you always end up talking after. I like listening to you,” you say softly, glancing up at him.

He slows a little more, like your words tugged gently at his chest.

“Why?”

You shrug, looking forward again. “You always sound like you mean what you say.”

He laughs under his breath, takes another drag. “You make me sound like I’m wise or something.”

You glance at him again. “You are, sometimes.”

He exhales a quiet scoff, grinning. “Only when I’m with you.”

There’s a pause. Then, still looking ahead, he asks, “Do you ever think about what it would’ve been like if we hadn’t met?”

You look up at him, surprised. “Why would you ask that?”

He flicks the ash off the edge of the cigarette, watching it fall. “I don’t know. Just… I was thinking earlier, watching you behind the counter. How you move through that space like it’s part of you. Like it breathes with you.”

You stay quiet, letting him keep going.

“And I thought… God, what if I never walked in that day?” He smiles softly, gaze far away. “What if I never saw you sitting there, reading some poetry book with your hair falling in your eyes?”

You feel warmth bloom in your chest, slow and deep.

You bump your shoulder into his gently. “Then I guess you’d still be overcharging people for snake tattoos.”

He laughs, loud and full. “Rude.”

“I’m right, though.”

“You are.” He stubs the cigarette out against the brick wall near you, flicking it into the trash. “You’re always right.”

Then he’s reaching for your hand again, like it never left his.

The rest of the walk is quiet. But not empty.

Never empty with him.

The apartment is quiet when you get there, the kind of quiet that feels lived in, not empty. You unlock the door with one hand, the other still in his. Jungkook stays close behind you, his chin briefly brushing your shoulder as he waits for you to push the door open.

Your cat darts in first. Tail high, full of purpose, like she owns the place and just allowed you both to tag along.

Jungkook laughs under his breath. “She’s such a diva.”

“She’s earned it,” you murmur, setting your bag down by the door.

Inside, it smells faintly like the lavender candle you lit before leaving for work and the vanilla detergent you both pretend not to be obsessed with. You toe off your shoes and watch as Jungkook drops his jacket onto the back of the couch before disappearing into the bedroom.

Your cat immediately finds her spot on the armrest, curling up like she never even left it.

You smile, shaking your head as you make your way into the kitchen, flicking on the soft under-cabinet lights. The gentle glow spills over the counter just as Jungkook reappears, barefoot, in an old black t-shirt with a tiny bleach stain on the hem and those worn gray sweats you secretly adore.

He stops in the doorway, arms crossed, watching you for a moment.

“You want me to heat something up?”

You turn your head to look at him. “You offering?”

“I’m pretending to,” he smirks, pushing off the frame and heading toward you.

While he rummages through the fridge for leftover takeout, you pour water into the cat’s ceramic bowl. She comes padding over, brushing against your leg with a tiny meow of gratitude.

Jungkook turns with a container in hand, holding it up. “Spicy tofu or the pasta from two nights ago?”

“Pasta,” you say. “The tofu’s yours. I’m not saving you from your own decisions again.”

He grins and sets both containers on the counter, bumping his hip against yours in a gentle nudge. “You love my bad decisions.”

“Only when they involve you showing up at my store with pastries.”

“You mean like yesterday?” he asks, leaning in close.

“Exactly like yesterday,” you murmur.

The microwave hums in the background. You glance at him. Hair a little messy, tattoos peeking out from the edge of his sleeve, the silver hoop in his lip glinting under the warm light, and you feel it again.

That peace. That fullness.

Home.

By the time the food’s warmed up and plated, neither of you bother with the table.

You carry the bowls to the couch while Jungkook grabs a couple of drinks from the fridge. He flicks off the kitchen lights as he follows you, the apartment dim now, lit only by the warm glow of the living room lamp and the muted city lights slipping in through the window.

Your cat is already curled up on the cushion between your spots, like she knew the routine. You give her a gentle nudge and she grumbles, but moves, stretching before claiming the blanket at the edge instead.

Jungkook settles beside you, his thigh pressed to yours, bowl in one hand and remote in the other. He flips aimlessly through a few shows before landing on some slow, black-and-white film neither of you have seen. You don’t really care.

You eat in the kind of silence that doesn’t need to be filled. Pausing only to steal bites from each other’s bowls, brushing arms now and then, smiling without needing to say why.

When the food’s gone, he leans back with a satisfied groan, placing the empty bowls on the coffee table. He stretches out, arm draping over the back of the couch, and like its instinct, you curl into his side, your head resting right over his heartbeat.

His fingers move to your arm without thinking, tracing slow, absentminded circles over your skin. You feel it everywhere, those small touches of his, quiet reminders you’re loved even when no words are spoken.

“Comfy?” he asks softly, voice low and rough around the edges.

“Mhm,” you hum. “You make a good pillow.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Don’t fall asleep on me again.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He doesn’t argue, just rests his cheek against your hair, breathing you in.

For a while, neither of you say a thing. The movie flickers on, forgotten. Outside, the city keeps breathing, keeps moving—but in here, time folds in around you. Quiet and full.

And when Jungkook finally speaks, his voice is a whisper against your temple.

“You know I’d choose this in every version of my life, right?”

You smile without opening your eyes.

“I know.”

The bell above the tattoo studio door jingled softly, and Jungkook didn’t bother looking up at first, he was cleaning up his station, half-focused on the mess of ink caps and gloves when the familiar scent of coffee hit him first.

“Slow day,” you say gently, your voice filling the space like warmth in cold hands.

He turns around instantly, a slow smile blooming across his face like he’s been waiting for you all day without even realizing it. You’re standing there with two takeaway cups in your hands and that soft, content expression you always wear when you’re around him.

“Yeah?” he asks, crossing the room to you, brushing his fingers along the back of your hand as he takes the coffee. “Guess I’m lucky, then.”

You smile, stepping inside further, eyes scanning the space. It’s warm and a little chaotic. Sketches taped up along the walls, half-finished designs on his desk, a playlist humming low from the speaker in the corner. The usual scent of disinfectant and ink lingers faintly beneath the scent of him—tobacco, coffee, and something warm you can’t quite name.

He takes a sip of the coffee, eyes closing for half a second. “You always remember how I like it.”

“Of course,” you murmur, fingers brushing lightly over the edge of the couch as you sit. “It was quiet at the shop. No one was really coming in. I thought I’d rather be here.”

He leans against his counter, watching you with that soft-eyed look he always gets when he’s not quite sure what to do with how much he loves you.

“Well, your timing’s good. I’ve got one more appointment today, but they’re not here yet. You’ve got me for a little while.”

You glance around again, settling deeper into the couch like it’s yours—which, in a way, it is. “Mind if I stay while you work?”

He raises an eyebrow, sipping again. “Since when do you ask?”

You laugh quietly. “Since now. Felt polite.”

“I don’t mind. You know that. I like having you here.”

Before you can say anything else, the front door opens and his next client steps inside, looking around curiously. Jungkook straightens up and waves them over, the professional mask slipping into place, though the corners of his smile don’t fade.

He glances over his shoulder at you before getting started. “You staying right there?”

You nod, settling in with your coffee. “Right here.”

He holds your gaze a moment longer, like he’s saying something else entirely with his eyes, then turns back to his work.

You stay curled up on the couch while Jungkook welcomes his client, a young guy with an eager smile and a printed reference folded in his hand. They chat for a while—positioning, size, meaning—and you sip your coffee slowly, letting the comforting buzz of their conversation and the gentle whir of the machine lull you into a quiet rhythm.

But every now and then, Jungkook glances your way.

It’s subtle at first, a flick of his eyes as he adjusts the stencil, a smirk playing on his lips when he catches you watching him. He’s in his zone, sleeve rolled up, brows furrowed in focus, gloved hands moving with practiced precision. And yet, somehow, it feels like half his attention is still wrapped around you.

You look away, trying not to smile. He sees it anyway.

Between needle strokes, he speaks to the client with ease, explaining aftercare instructions and cracking a light joke, but then, in a pause, he throws a quick glance your way and mouths, stop staring.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence, and take another sip of coffee.

He grins, shaking his head softly, then leans in closer to the client again, focused. But when he straightens up to switch needles, he wipes his hands, catches your eye again, and mouths this time, you’re distracting.

Your heart skips a beat. You tilt your head, lips curving. It’s not your fault he’s attractive when he’s focused. Or when he’s not. Or always.

You reach into your tote bag and pull out a book, an excuse to look away, to settle your nerves, but you can still feel his attention flickering to you between every pass of the machine.

“Sorry,” the client says suddenly, wincing a little. “Did I move?”

“No worries,” Jungkook says easily, adjusting the guy’s arm. “You’re good. Just breathe.”

He leans in again, focused, jaw tight with concentration. You watch the way his hands move, steady and careful, and wonder if he even realizes how gentle he becomes when he’s making art. You wonder if he knows how many times you’ve watched him like this and thought, I could stay in this moment forever.

When he finally sits back to let the client breathe, he stretches, rolling his neck before pulling his gloves off temporarily. He glances at you again, this time more deliberate, then gestures at his water bottle near your side of the room.

You raise it like a question, and he nods.

You bring it over, brushing past him quietly. His fingers graze yours as he takes the bottle, eyes lingering on your face for just a second too long.

“Thanks,” he says under his breath, low enough that only you can hear. Then, with a crooked grin, he adds, “You’re still staring.”

You lean in just a touch, voice soft. “Maybe you like it.”

His brow lifts, clearly not expecting the sass. A quiet chuckle leaves his lips as he takes a long sip of water, eyes still locked on yours.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

You flush, lips twitching into a quiet smirk, and turn away before he sees too much of it.

But you know he already did.

The buzz of the machine dies down with a final click, and Jungkook leans back in his chair, surveying the finished piece with a small, satisfied smile.

“Take a look,” he says, handing the mirror to the client. “See if it sits right with you.”

The guy grins as he examines the tattoo, nodding immediately. “Man, this looks amazing. You killed it.”

Jungkook hums, modest as ever. “Glad you like it.”

They talk a little longer—aftercare instructions, a handshake, some final words of thanks—and then the door jingles shut behind him, leaving the studio a little quieter. Warmer. Still.

You’re sitting on the couch with your book half-forgotten in your lap, watching him.

He pulls off his gloves, tosses them into the bin, and lets out a low breath as he leans back against the counter, fingers running through his hair.

And then his eyes are on you again, no longer stealing glances. He’s looking at you now.

“You know,” he says, voice soft and teasing, “you made it really hard to concentrate.”

You close your book slowly, meeting his gaze. “I was just sitting.”

He huffs a small laugh and crosses the room, standing in front of where you sit. “Exactly. Just sitting. Looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re the one who drew blood.”

You try to keep your face neutral, but the smile pulls at your lips anyway.

His hand finds the back of the couch behind you, and he leans in just a little, not quite close enough to touch, but enough that his presence wraps around you like a breath.

“You gonna admit it?” he murmurs. “You came in here to distract me.”

You look up at him, innocent. “Or maybe I just missed you.”

That pulls something softer from him. His teasing melts into affection as he lifts a hand to your face, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Dangerous move,” he says, thumb lingering just at your cheekbone. “Coming in here looking like that, with coffee and that quiet little smile like you’re not doing anything.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you whisper, even as you lean into his touch.

He dips his head, pressing a slow, barely-there kiss to your temple.

“Sure,” he breathes against your skin. “Keep telling yourself that.”

You laugh quietly, and the sound makes him smile.

“I should clean up,” he says, pulling away just enough to glance at his station.

“You want help?”

“Nah,” he says, but then catches your hand before you can move too far. “Just stay close.”

You squeeze his fingers gently. “Always.”

He keeps your hand in his for a moment longer before finally letting go, rolling his shoulders as he heads back to the station. You watch him move. Gloves back on, his focus shifting like a switch has flipped, precise and methodical as he starts wiping down the chair and rearranging his tools.

You stand, stretching a little, then let your eyes wander to the low shelf near the wall. A messy pile of sketchbooks and scattered drafts sits there, some loose sheets curling at the edges like they’ve been flipped through one too many times.

Curious, you crouch down and start flipping gently through them. Most of it is the usual mix. Fine-line florals, detailed animals, ornamental pieces with haunting precision. But then, you pause.

One draft is simpler. Not as loud as the others, but it speaks to you in a way you can’t explain right away. Something about the shape. The weight of it. The meaning it could carry.

You stare at it for a long moment, your fingers resting on the edge of the page.

Behind you, the soft sound of gloves snapping off catches your attention, followed by the faint flick of a lighter.

You glance over your shoulder.

Jungkook’s standing by the open window, cigarette between his lips, one hand braced on the frame as the other rests in his pocket. The smoke curls around him in slow spirals, catching the amber light of late afternoon. His eyes are on you again, this time, curious.

“Found something?” he asks, voice a little rough around the edges.

You hesitate, then turn the sketch around to face him. “This one.”

He exhales slowly, the smoke trailing from the corner of his mouth. “You like it?”

You nod. “I don’t know why. It just… pulled at me.”

He studies you for a second. Not the drawing, you.

“That’s one I never finished. Didn’t feel right for anyone who came in. Maybe it was waiting.”

You blink at him. “Waiting?”

He shrugs a little, takes another drag, and says, “For you.”

Your breath catches. He says it so casually, but the weight of it presses somewhere deep in your chest. He flicks ash out the window and watches you with that quiet intensity that always makes you feel like he sees too much.

“I’ve never really thought about getting one,” you admit, still holding the drawing. “But this… I don’t know. Maybe.”

He walks toward you, smoke trailing behind him, and takes the page from your hand, studying it again like he’s seeing it with new eyes.

“If you ever want it,” he says, “you don’t have to ask.”

You smile softly. “You’d put it on me?”

“I’d be honored.”

He leans down, presses a light kiss to your hair, then pulls away with a grin. “But you better not cry when the needle hits.”

You scoff. “You literally made someone cry last week.”

“Yeah, but he was being dramatic.”

“You said he almost passed out.”

Jungkook smirks, tapping ash into the tray. “You wouldn’t. You’d take it like a badass.”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “You’re so full of yourself.”

He exhales the last bit of smoke, flicks the cigarette out, and turns back to you with that stupidly gorgeous grin.

“Only when you’re watching.”

You roll your eyes playfully, taking the sketch like it’s fragile from his hands. You sit back down on the edge of the couch, your fingers trace the lines again, this time with more intention, like you’re trying to picture them on skin instead of paper.

Jungkook watches you, now leaned against the armrest beside you, elbow propped as he turns his rings absentmindedly.

“Where would you put it?” you ask softly, without looking up.

He hums, thoughtful. “Somewhere quiet.”

You glance at him. “Quiet?”

“Yeah.” He shifts closer, reaching for the paper again. “Someplace soft. Just for you.”

He holds your gaze as he says it, and something about the way he does makes your skin warm.

You try to play it cool. “So… where?”

His eyes roam over you with that artist’s precision. He’s not undressing you, not really, just seeing. Like canvas. Like potential.

Then he taps the edge of the drawing. “Ribs,” he says. “Left side. Just beneath the bra line.”

You raise a brow, unsure. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

His grin is slow. “Yeah.”

You blink at him.

He laughs. “But it’s worth it. It’d sit so beautifully there.”

You hesitate, then stand slowly. He watches you with mild curiosity as you step toward the mirror on the far wall. There’s a stool nearby, and you nudge it gently toward him without a word.

He catches on quick, sitting down in front of you, holding the sketch in one hand.

Your fingers move to the hem of your shirt, and you lift it just enough, baring the side of your ribs, skin soft and warm in the golden afternoon light.

Jungkook’s eyes flick up to yours, slow, checking. Asking.

You nod once.

He leans in without a word, guiding the paper up to your skin. The edges brush against you lightly as he aligns it, pressing just enough for you to see where it would sit. Your breath hitches a little, not from the pressure, but from the closeness.

“Right here,” he murmurs. “Would follow your line when you breathe.”

You glance in the mirror. The sketch fits you. You can’t explain how, but it just does.

“I can make it smaller,” he offers. “Tuck it in more, if you want it hidden.”

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t want to hide it.”

He lifts his eyes to meet yours in the mirror, and for a second, neither of you says anything.

Then, with the paper still resting against your ribs, he shifts just slightly closer. His fingers, warm and calloused, brush your waist, holding you steady. He leans in, and presses a kiss just below your ribs, right where the sketch would sit.

The kiss is featherlight. Almost reverent.

And when he looks up at you, there’s nothing cocky about his expression, just that quiet kind of awe, like he can’t believe you’re his.

“This,” he says, voice low, “would look perfect on you.”

You don’t trust your voice to answer, so you just reach out and brush your fingers through his hair gently, smiling as your stomach flutters under his touch.

You’re still standing between his knees, the both of you reflected in the mirror. Him sitting back, relaxed, looking up at you like he’s already imagining the ink there. You, trying to stay calm while your heart flips over itself.

His voice breaks the quiet, low and teasing. “So? What do you think?”

You glance down at the paper still in his hand, then at your side in the mirror. The image lingers, ghosted over your ribs like it already belongs to you.

“I think…” You hesitate, lips curving. “I’ll think about it.”

Jungkook raises a brow, amused. “That’s not a no.”

“It’s not a yes either.”

“Mm,” he hums, grinning like he already knows the answer. “You’re gonna say yes.”

You roll your eyes and pull your shirt down, trying to hide the way your smile keeps growing. “Cocky.”

He stands slowly, tucks the sketch carefully onto the shelf like it’s already been claimed. “Confident.”

You bump your shoulder into him on the way past, and he catches your hand gently, giving it a soft squeeze. When you turn, he’s already looking at you again.

“I won’t rush you,” he says, quieter now. “But if you decide… I’ll make it special. Just for you.”

You meet his eyes, and for a second, you swear he’s more serious than you expected—less flirt, more something else.

You nod. “I know.”

The silence that follows isn’t heavy, it’s warm, wrapped in a shared understanding, a feeling that lingers even as he picks up your empty coffee cup and you reach for your bag.

“Come on,” you say softly, tugging his sleeve. “Let’s go home.”

He follows you, steps falling in line with yours, hand brushing yours again as the door shuts behind you, sketch tucked safely away, and something unspoken left between your ribs, just waiting.

The bookstore is quiet in the way you love most. Soft jazz humming from the old speakers, the gentle clink of mugs from the corner where two regulars sip their usuals, and the warm scent of espresso and cinnamon lingering in the air.

You’re behind the counter, sorting through a new stack of poetry books, but your hands have slowed. Your thoughts keep drifting, pulling you away from the paper and ink, back to yesterday. Back to his voice, his hands, the way the sketch looked resting against your ribs like it already belonged there.

A quiet chirp pulls you from your thoughts.

You glance down to find your cat stretching lazily beside the register, tail flicking as she stares up at you with disinterest, like she knows you’re daydreaming and mildly disapproves.

You smile softly, reaching down to scratch behind her ears. “You think I’m crazy for even considering it, huh?”

She blinks slowly. No judgment, just feline silence.

You reach into your pocket and pull out your phone. You’d taken a photo of the sketch when Jungkook wasn’t looking, just in case.

Tapping it open, you hold the image up, studying it in the morning light. The lines are delicate but intentional. Every curve has meaning. It’s you, somehow, though you’re still not sure how he saw it so clearly.

Your fingers brush absently over the side of your ribs, over fabric and skin, feeling the ghost of his touch, the memory of that kiss.

You’d said you’d think about it.

And you have been. More than you meant to.

You tuck your phone away when a customer approaches, offering them a polite smile and ringing up their coffee. But even after they leave, your mind doesn’t return to inventory or restocks or emails.

It lingers in his studio. In the warmth of his fingers. In the way he said, “Just for you.”

The bell over the shop door jingles softly as you turn the sign to Closed. The street outside is tinted in that golden-orange haze of early evening, long shadows stretching across the sidewalk. You lock up, shoulders sagging from the long day, but it’s the good kind of tired. The kind that feels earned.

Your phone buzzes just as you’re slipping it into your coat pocket.

+1 heart (koo) ♡ [6:34 PM]:

omw home. today was insane.

but i missed you.

You smile, cheeks warming.

You [6:35 PM]:

hurry up and i’ll make it worth it.

His reply comes in immediately.

+1 heart (koo) ♡ [6:35 PM]:

say less.

By the time he walks through the apartment door, dusk has spilled across the walls, casting everything in a soft lavender glow. He kicks off his boots with a groan, stretching his arms above his head and rolling his shoulders.

“You look like you’ve been carrying the world,” you say, stepping out from the kitchen with a glass of water in one hand.

“I have, babe,” he mutters, taking the glass and leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Two walk-ins, both huge pieces. My back is begging for mercy.”

You smile, brushing the hair from his forehead as he drinks. “Good thing I’m feeling generous tonight.”

You’re both in the living room not long after, his t-shirt discarded somewhere on the floor. He’s lying across the couch, head propped up by a pillow, eyes closed while you straddle his thighs, hands moving slowly across his bare shoulders and down his spine.

He sighs under your touch, melting into it.

“God, you’ve got magic fingers,” he mumbles. “Might propose right here.”

You laugh softly, leaning down to press a kiss between his shoulder blades. “Don’t tempt me.”

Your fingers keep working, and the silence between you stretches sweet and comfortable. Your cat hops onto the back of the couch, curling up behind Jungkook’s head like a soft guardian. He lets out a sleepy laugh at the tiny paws brushing his hair.

And then, in the quiet, just when his body is soft and his breathing steady, you say it.

“I’ve decided,” you murmur, fingertips slowing over his ribs. “I want to do it.”

He shifts slightly, eyes opening, voice quiet. “The tattoo?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

“I want your art on me,” you say, softer now. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. And yesterday. And… I think I knew the second you placed it there.”

He sits up a little, turning so he can look at you fully. His eyes warm, curious, like he’s trying to read something in your face.

“You sure?”

“I am.”

He studies you for a moment longer. Then, his hand reaches out—fingertips ghosting over your side, right where the sketch would go.

He smiles. “Okay. We’ll do it.”

You blink. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he repeats, and then leans in to kiss you. Soft, slow, full of something that feels an awful lot like forever.

You’ve always loved the quiet of his studio, but tonight, it’s different. Jungkook closed the day early, just for you. He didn’t need to say anything, but the way he set everything up, making sure you felt comfortable and relaxed, told you everything you needed to know.

The dim light of the studio feels warm, soft against your skin. You can hear Jungkook’s movements as he preps everything around you. His calmness is contagious, and you feel your nerves slowly start to melt away.

You’re sitting on the padded table minutes later, shirt lifted just enough for him to reach your ribs. The cool air touches your skin, goosebumps blooming across your side, but his hand is steady and warm as he places the stencil.

You glance at the mirror across from you. The design is simple, clean, but holds everything you’ve never said out loud.

A butterfly with ink-stained wings resting on an open page. A soft-line drawing of a butterfly perched delicately on the corner of a slightly open book. The butterfly’s wings are detailed, and at the tips, there are small splashes of black ink, like she flew too close to the story, and it left its mark. One page of the book flutters like a wing, echoing hers.

Your chest aches with how right it feels.

He looks up at you, waiting for a nod. “Still good?”

You nod, exhaling softly. “Still good.”

He leans in, presses a slow kiss just beneath your ribs. “Then let’s do this, baby.”

You can feel the slightest tremor in your body as he preps the needle, the soft buzzing of the machine filling the space. But then his hand finds yours, warm and steady, and your heart skips.

“I’m right here,” he reassures you, his voice calm and grounding. “Just focus on me. It’ll be fine.”

His hands are gentle, guiding the needle over your skin. You feel the coolness of the ink first, then the steady hum of the machine, and the sharp sting that follows.

Your thoughts drift, lulled by the rhythm of his breath, the steadiness of his hand, the warmth of being so close to him like this. You can’t help but watch him, his brow furrowed in concentration, his lips slightly parted.

When the tattoo is finished, he pulls back gently, wiping the area with a soft cloth. His fingers trace over the ink, his touch tender, like he’s making sure it’s real.

“Done,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft, just for you.

You take a deep breath, your eyes tracing the delicate butterfly now inked into your skin. It feels like a piece of you now, something so deeply personal that you can’t help but be moved.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, your voice a little shaky, but filled with truth.

He smiles. “I’m glad you like it. It’s you, in every way.”

He cleans the area one last time, fingers brushing gently over your side before he sets everything aside. The hum of the machine fades, but the warmth he left behind lingers, echoing in the space between you.

You stay seated on the padded table, your body still catching up to everything you’re feeling. Tender, buzzing, filled with something soft and new.

Jungkook steps closer, settling between your legs without hesitation, hands resting on your thighs. His thumbs draw slow circles over the fabric of your jeans, and when he looks up at you, there’s nothing but affection in his eyes.

“You already know this,” he starts, voice low, “but I’m still saying it.”

You smile, the corners of your lips pulling up. “Of course you are.”

“No touching it too much,” he says, grinning a little. “Keep it clean, moisturized. No sun, no baths. Just showers. And text me if anything feels weird, though you’ll probably be sleeping next to me when you do.”

You laugh softly, your fingers brushing through his hair, pushing it back from his face. “I’ve heard you give that speech like a hundred times.”

“Still had to say it.” He leans in, resting his head lightly against your chest, his arms wrapping around your waist. “This one’s different.”

Your breath hitches. It is. It’s you.

He pulls back, hands still framing your thighs. His eyes flick up to yours, quiet for a moment, gaze unreadable in that way that always makes your heart ache.

And then you lean in, cupping his face and pressing your lips to his. Slow, soft, like a thank you. Like a promise.

He hums into the kiss, hands gripping your thighs just a little tighter as he tilts his head to deepen it. It’s not rushed. There’s no urgency in it. Just the warmth of the moment, the comfort of his body close to yours, and the new piece of you inked into your skin.

When you finally pull away, his eyes stay closed for a second too long. Like he’s memorizing the way you taste.

Then, he looks at you—really looks—and his voice drops, low and honest.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you look right now?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity, by the way his gaze traces your face like he’s trying to memorize every inch.

“Not just the tattoo,” he adds, one hand drifting to your side again, just above the ink. “You. Sitting here, all mine.”

Your heart stutters. He doesn’t say it for effect, doesn’t say it to get a reaction. He says it like it’s the simplest truth he knows.

And suddenly, the studio feels too quiet, too still. Like the world’s holding its breath just for the two of you.

“Then keep me,” you whisper, eyes locked on his.

He smiles, slow and sure, fingers still resting gently on your thigh.

“Always.”

It’s one of those rare, quiet days when neither of you has anywhere to be.

It’s a quiet night, the kind that feels like it belongs only to the two of you. The windows are cracked just enough to let in a breeze, rustling the curtains, carrying the distant hum of the city. Everything else is still.

You’re both in bed, the covers pulled loosely over your legs. A movie plays quietly in the background, something neither of you is really paying attention to. His arm is curled around your waist, fingers brushing up and down your side in that lazy rhythm he always falls into when he’s relaxed.

Your cat is curled up by your feet, purring faintly, and Jungkook looks like he was made to exist in this room, in this moment. His free arm is tucked behind his head, eyes half-lidded but awake, just enjoying the feel of you curled against him.

“Is it weird that I like days like this more than anything else?” you murmur, your voice muffled against his skin.

He hums, a low, sleepy sound. “Not weird at all. I think I’d choose this over anything, honestly.”

You lift your head slightly to look at him. His hair is a little messy, falling into his eyes, and there’s a softness to his face that’s only ever there when he’s completely relaxed. He looks at you like you’ve just told him his favorite secret.

“You’re warm,” he says with a small grin, brushing his fingers along the side of your face. “Like… you could replace my heater. I’d save so much money.”

You let out a quiet laugh, then playfully pinch his side. “Maybe I’ll start charging you.”

His grin widens. “Nah, you like me too much to do that.”

You shake your head, hiding your smile against his chest again.

His thumb moves gently against your skin, right over the tattoo he gave you days ago. You know he’s not thinking about it, not consciously, but the way his fingers always seem to find it, it’s like his hands remember what they made.

“You make me feel so safe,” you whisper.

Jungkook tilts his head, eyes soft. “You make me feel still.”

There’s a silence after that, but it isn’t empty. It’s full of everything neither of you needs to say out loud anymore.

Eventually, he shifts a little, tugs you closer until your leg is tangled over his. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear.

“Let’s stay like this forever,” you murmur.

He kisses the top of your head, one of those slow, breathless kisses like he’s trying to press the moment into time. “Forever sounds good to me.”

The screen fades to black as the movie ends, and neither of you moves to change it.

Outside, the world keeps turning. But in here, it’s quiet. Warm. Safe.

And maybe love isn’t always loud. Maybe it lives in quiet rooms and half-whispered words, in shared glances across familiar spaces. Maybe it’s in the way he breathes beside you, the way your cat purrs between you, the way your bodies tangle without trying. Maybe love is this, a stillness that doesn’t ask to be anything more, because it already is everything.

[luciathcv]

muscles and tattoos - jjk

summary: you love your boyfriends muscles and tattoos || warnings: none || genre: fluff, established relationship || word count: approximately 400

you loved your boyfriend's arms

and i mean... could anyone blame you?

the answer is no

i mean, first of all, they were so muscular

and not only were they muscular but they were just so big

andddd on top of all that, one of them was all tatted up

you loved it

and dw, jungkook knew that

when you guys first started dating, you tried to be more subtle about it

when he would walk around in his wife beaters, his arms on full display, you had to act chill and act like you totally weren't freaking out

when he hugged you from behind, you had to act like you weren't staring at his hands and arms

you had to act like you weren't melting into his hold

until jungkook realized how much you liked it one day and you didn't have to anymore..

it was so different now

a big habit of yours would be to trace his tattoos

you'd do it mindlessly while watching a movie together

or while you're in some waiting room somewhere

especially when you're cuddled up in bed together

you'd wake up earlier than him a lot of the time (unsurprisingly since he stayed up really late most of the time)

you didn't exactly want to leave the bed yet but at the same time, you didn't have anything better to do so....

your eyes would go over to his arm which was always draped over your torso

you'd bring your hand to it and would just trace all the little designs and letters

it didn't only calm you but him as well

for example...

whenever jungkook is really stressed with work

and just needing some comforting

you'd lay with him and just trace his tattoos

the feeling of your fingers softly grazing his skin was so relaxing for him

he'd end up calming down

anyways, enough with his tattoos

sorry i just love them so much

i feel like his arms would be such a comforting thing for you

unconsciously too

like whenever you guys were in a crowded place, your first instinct would be to hold onto his arm

or whenever you were scared after watching a horror movie, you'd hold onto his arm as you walked back to your bedroom (yes i was thinking back to my other post lol)

jungkook would love it so much too because it really showed that you felt safe around him

and you really did

ᥫ᭡ link to my masterlist

[jungkookjeon0007]

— and this ladies and gentlemen is the man I am most obsessed with. 😩🙌🏻♥️

[jung-koook]

"That's right~ I got one more piercing on my lip"

[keehomania]

underground (지하) — jeon jungkook (전정국)

✧.* 18+

money was an art form, a masterpiece woven from the fibers of power, greed, and survival. it was a delicate ballet, an intricate dance where every note mattered, each step carefully orchestrated. In this world, money was not merely a means of transaction; it was the lifeblood that fueled dreams, ambitions, and the very essence of existence. without it, the colors of life dulled, the vibrant hues of possibility faded into shades of gray. yet, the privilege of earning it through moral channels was a luxury not afforded to all. for some, the paths to financial stability were darkened by the shadows of necessity and desperation, forcing them into a world where the lines between right and wrong blurred into obscurity.

you stood on the edge of that world, teetering between the stark contrasts of legality and the underground. as the night cloaked the city in its velvet embrace, the secrets of this hidden realm whispered through the streets, carried by the cool breeze. the city was a living entity, pulsing with an energy born of a thousand untold stories, where money talked and everything else listened.

the underground world was a realm of its own, hidden beneath the city's polished surface, where neon lights cast eerie glows on crumbling walls and the air was thick with the scent of sweat and adrenaline. it thrived in the forgotten spaces, the abandoned warehouses and derelict buildings, where society's outcasts gathered to find solace and spectacle in the brutal dance of fists and fury.

the boxing ring stood at the center of this world, a rough-hewn platform of blood-stained canvas surrounded by a chain-link fence. dim, flickering lights cast harsh shadows, illuminating the ring in a spectral glow. the ground was littered with the remnants of past battles—torn tape, discarded gloves, and dark stains that bore silent witness to the violence that had taken place. crowds formed a living, breathing entity around the ring, a mass of bodies pressed together in fervent anticipation. faces painted with a mix of excitement and dread peered through the gaps in the fence, eyes wide with the primal thrill of the fight. the spectators came from all walks of life—street hustlers, high-rolling gamblers, and those simply seeking an escape from the mundanity of their daily existence. the air buzzed with their collective energy, a low hum of voices rising to a fever pitch as the fighters entered the ring.

jungkook moved through that world with a confidence born of survival, his every step a testament to the power he wielded within these confines. the crowd parted for him, their eyes following his every move, a mix of reverence and fear in their gazes. he was both king and gladiator, revered for his skill and feared for his ruthlessness. in the underground arena, he was more than a fighter—he was a legend.

six years ago, the underground boxing scene was a world defined by its brutal intensity, where raw ambition clashed with the harsh realities of the ring. the air was thick with the acrid smell of sweat and adrenaline, the dim lighting casting elongated shadows over the makeshift ring. the clamor of distant fights, punctuated by the occasional grunt or shout, created a cacophony that seemed to pulse with its own rhythm.

you had ventured into the gritty realm with nothing but a fierce determination and a burning desire to carve out a place for yourself. unlike the other candidates who had come to vie for the position of jungkook’s manager, you were unpolished and inexperienced, a stark contrast to their sleek resumes and confident demeanor. the other hopefuls were draped in tailored suits, their composure reflecting years of honed skill and practiced charm. in contrast, you stood out with your unkempt hair and the nervous energy that radiated from you.

as you waited for your turn, the raucous environment seemed almost suffocating. you could hear the thud of fists against flesh and the murmur of a crowd that was both eagerly anticipating and derisively scrutinizing. namjoon, his mentor, stood at the edge of the ring, his imposing figure and critical gaze adding to the already palpable tension. his reputation was that of a seasoned fighter with a no-nonsense attitude, a man who had seen it all and demanded nothing less than excellence.

when it was finally your turn, you stepped forward, heart racing, to face namjoon. his eyes were cold, assessing, as he took in your disheveled appearance. “you’re here for the manager position?” his voice was a low rumble, laced with disbelief. “yes,” you replied, trying to steady your voice despite the tightening of your throat.

his lips curled into a scornful smile as he glanced at the other candidates, who were watching with barely concealed amusement. “you don’t look like much. do you even understand what it takes to manage someone like jungkook?” your face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation, but you met his gaze squarely. “i may not have the experience, but i’m willing to learn and work harder than anyone else here.”

his laughter was harsh and unforgiving, echoing off the walls of the dimly lit room. “hard work? this isn’t some corporate office where dedication alone gets you by. this is the underground. you need guts, strength, and the ability to handle whatever comes your way.” he turned to jungkook, who had been observing with a contemplative expression. “why are we even entertaining this?” his gaze was unwavering as he replied, “because i want to.”

namjoon’s surprise was evident, his skepticism momentarily giving way to astonishment. “you can’t be serious.” jungkook’s expression was resolute. “let’s see if she can handle the ring.”

with that, the room fell into an expectant silence. namjoon’s eyes softened slightly, a trace of reluctant respect mingling with his skepticism. “you don’t have to do this,” he said, his tone almost gentler. but you shook your head, your resolve firm despite the tears threatening to spill over. “yes, i do.”

the fight that followed was a harrowing testament to both your physical and emotional fortitude. as you climbed into the ring, the atmosphere seemed to grow thicker with tension. namjoon wasted no time, his movements swift and precise as he tested your limits. every punch he threw was a reminder of how far you still had to go, and each time you hit the mat, the sting of failure was accompanied by the disheartening laughter of the other candidates. yet, with every fall, you stood up stronger. the pain was excruciating, each bruise and scrape a reminder of the battle you were waging not just against him, but against your own self-doubt. your breaths came in ragged gasps, sweat mingling with tears as you pressed on.

in a moment of clarity, the world seemed to slow down. the pain, the exhaustion, and the criticism faded into a singular focus. you dodged a particularly powerful punch of his and retaliated with a flurry of strikes that caught him off guard. the crowd’s murmurs shifted to gasps of surprise as you landed a series of blows that drove him back. his formidable figure staggered, and with a final, decisive move, you brought him to the mat.

the arena fell silent as namjoon lay on the ground, winded and defeated. he looked up at you with a mixture of shock and grudging respect, his usual veneer of confidence cracked. you stood over him, breathless and battered, but triumphant. the realization of what you had accomplished began to sink in, and the tears you had fought to hold back now flowed freely.

jungkook stepped into the ring, his eyes alight with an emotion you hadn’t seen before. he helped his mentor to his feet, his gaze never wavering from you. “congratulations,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. “you’re hired.”

the other candidates were left stunned, their expressions a mix of disbelief and envy. you had achieved what they could not: you had proven yourself not with words, but with action and resolve. jungkook’s faith in you had been well-placed, and you had earned not just the position of manager but a bond of trust and respect that would shape the future of both your lives. from that day forward, you were more than just his manager. you became his ally, his confidante, and an integral part of his journey through the unforgiving world of underground boxing. the fight in that ring had forged a partnership that would define your path together, built on the foundation of mutual respect and unwavering determination.

the night was electric with anticipation, the arena packed to capacity. the air buzzed with a feverish energy as spectators pressed close, their eager faces illuminated by the harsh, flickering lights that barely pierced the dense haze of smoke and heat. the roars of the crowd reverberated through the space, creating a rhythmic thunder that seemed to pulse with the heartbeat of the night.

you stood ringside, eyes fixed intently on jungkook as he faced his opponent. the crowd’s fervor only heightened the tension of the match, and you could feel every beat of adrenaline as if it were your own. the opponent was a formidable figure, broad-shouldered and intimidating, his presence alone a challenge to his dominance.

the first round began with a blinding flurry of motion. jungkook moved with the fluid grace of a seasoned fighter, his every movement precise and calculated. his opponent, a hulking man with a vicious reputation, countered with brute force and aggression. the clash of fists and the thud of each impact resonated through the arena, making the ground seem to vibrate with each powerful blow.

as the round progressed, the sheer intensity of the fight left no room for hesitation or error. jungkook’s focus was evident, his eyes narrowed and unblinking as he assessed his opponent’s every move. yet, despite his skill, he wasn't impervious. the opponent managed to land a few solid hits, and his face bore the marks of the encounter: a split lip, a bruise forming along his jawline. the bell rang, signaling the end of the round, and the roar of the crowd surged with a mix of excitement and apprehension. you were quick to spring into action, your heart pounding as you rushed to jungkook’s corner. the moment he was within reach, you grabbed the damp towel and began to clean him up, your hands moving with practiced efficiency.

“jungkook,” you said, your voice firm but steady as you dabbed away the sweat and blood from his face. “listen to me. you’re doing great, but you need to focus. he’s strong, but he’s not faster than you. use your agility, stay light on your feet.” he looked at you, his breath coming in heavy gasps, his eyes reflecting a mix of fatigue and determination. “he’s hitting hard. i’m feeling every punch.”

“that’s exactly why you need to stay sharp,” you responded, applying a cool compress to his bruised face. “you can’t let him dictate the pace of the fight. you’re the one in control. remember why you’re here. remember what you’ve worked for.” he nodded, his gaze locking onto yours with a renewed intensity. “i won’t let you down.”

“good,” you said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping back. “get in there and show him what you’re made of.”

the bell rang again, and he sprang back into the ring with a renewed sense of purpose. the second round began with a changed dynamic. his movements were more deliberate, his eyes sharper and his attacks more focused. He danced around his opponent with a fluidity that was almost mesmerizing, his every punch landing with precision. the earlier mistakes were gone, replaced by a controlled aggression that put him back in command of the fight. with each round, jungkook seemed to grow more confident, his strikes more powerful, his footwork more graceful. the crowd was enthralled, their cheers growing louder with each successful hit. you watched from the sidelines, your heart racing as you witnessed the transformation. the energy of the arena, the cheers, and the tension all seemed to meld into one intense wave of emotion.

by the time the final round approached, the opponent was visibly faltering, his stamina waning under the relentless assault. jungkook pressed his advantage, his focus unerring, his movements a blur of calculated strikes and evasive maneuvers. the final bell rang, and the crowd erupted into a thunderous roar as the referee raised jungkook’s hand in victory.

you rushed to his side, your heart swelling with pride as you wrapped him in a congratulatory embrace. “you did it,” you murmured, your voice filled with a mix of relief and exhilaration. “i knew you could.” jungkook, though exhausted, wore a triumphant smile. “thank you. for believing in me. for pushing me.”

you nodded, your own smile reflecting the satisfaction of the moment. “it was all you. you made it happen.” as the arena began to clear and the crowd’s excitement faded into a hum of post-fight chatter, you and jungkook stood together, the bond between you stronger than ever. the fight had been more than just a test of physical prowess; it had been a testament to the trust and dedication you both shared.

as the final echoes of the crowd’s cheers faded into the night, the once-vibrant arena began to empty. the air, now cooler and more relaxed, replaced the earlier frenzy with a calm that seemed to blanket the space. the spotlight that had illuminated the ring now dimmed, casting long shadows across the bleacher seats and leaving behind the scent of sweat and victory.

you and jungkook, along with namjoon, made your way to a corner of the arena that had been cleared for post-fight celebrations. the makeshift bar area, a row of tables cluttered with half-empty bottles and discarded cups, was a welcome sight after the intense atmosphere of the ring. namjoon had procured a selection of beers, and as he cracked open the first bottle, the familiar hiss of carbonation was a sound of relief. you took a beer from him, feeling the cool glass in your hand, a tangible reward for the night’s efforts. jungkook, still riding the high of victory, accepted his drink with a grin that spoke of his satisfaction and relief.

the three of you settled into a more relaxed atmosphere, the weight of the fight now replaced with the casual ease of celebration. you took a swig of the beer, savoring the crisp, refreshing taste as you glanced around the nearly deserted arena.

“not a bad way to spend the night,” jungkook remarked, leaning back against the table, his posture relaxed but his eyes still sharp with the thrill of the fight. “definitely not,” you agreed, your own mood buoyed by the shared sense of accomplishment. “you were incredible out there.”

namjoon, always the realist even in moments of triumph, watched the two of you with a thoughtful expression. he took a long pull from his own beer, his gaze wandering over the remnants of the crowd and the emptying seats. the celebration was marked by a certain levity, but there was an undercurrent of concern that seemed to cling to him. “there’s something i need to talk to you both about,” he said, breaking the easy camaraderie. his tone was serious, a stark contrast to the celebratory mood. “the cops have been sniffing around lately.”

jungkook’s smile faltered slightly, but he quickly masked his concern with a shrug. “we’ve been keeping things tight. nothing’s gonna come of it.” you nodded in agreement, the confidence in your voice masking the unease you felt. “we’ve been careful. we’re not giving them any reason to dig deeper.”

namjoon’s expression remained troubled as he took another sip from his bottle. “i hope you’re right. but i've got a bad feeling about this. they’re getting closer, and it’s not just a feeling. i've heard things.” jungkook leaned forward, his gaze steady. “we’ve handled things before. we’ll handle this too. we’ve always been a step ahead.”

you put a reassuring hand on jungkook’s shoulder. “we’ve got a solid plan. we just need to stay vigilant and keep our heads cool.” namjoon shook his head slowly, his unease palpable. “it’s not just about being vigilant. it’s about being prepared for anything. i’ve seen things go sideways before, and i don’t want us to be caught off guard.”

the atmosphere grew tense, the celebratory mood momentarily eclipsed by the reality of the situation. the weight of namjoon’s concern was a reminder of the risks that came with their world—a world that thrived in the shadows but was always at risk of being exposed. jungkook’s gaze softened as he looked at him. “we appreciate the heads-up. we’ll make sure we stay ahead of any trouble.”

he gave a reluctant nod, though his expression didn’t fully ease. “just keep your wits about you. we’re in a dangerous game, and the stakes are high.”

you raised your beer, trying to restore some of the lightness to the evening. “to a victory well-earned and to staying one step ahead of trouble.” jungkook clinked his bottle against yours, his smile returning. “cheers to that.” namjoon hesitated but eventually joined in, the clink of his bottle against yours and jungkook’s a small gesture of camaraderie amidst the underlying tension. “cheers,” he said, though his voice carried a trace of lingering concern.

the arena, now nearly empty, became a place of reflection and camaraderie, a brief respite before the inevitable challenges ahead. the victory was sweet, but the reminder of the ever-present dangers served as a sobering counterpoint. as the last of the crowd dispersed and the arena grew quieter, you, jungkook, and namjoon remained—a small island of celebration amidst a sea of uncertainty, fortified by trust, shared triumph, and the unspoken acknowledgment of the risks yet to come.

“do you have anything on them yet?” the voice on the other end of the line was crisp and authoritative, carrying an edge of impatience that contrasted sharply with the subdued tones of the post-fight celebration.

you glanced around the now nearly empty arena, the echoes of the earlier excitement still hanging in the air. jungkook and namjoon were engaged in animated conversation, their laughter a faint background noise as you stepped away from them to take the call. the light of the arena’s exit sign cast long shadows on the walls, a stark reminder of the night’s end and the reality that awaited outside.

“no solid leads yet,” you replied quietly, making sure your voice remained steady. “i’ve been keeping a close watch, but nothing concrete.”

the chief’s response was immediate, his tone sharp with urgency. “you need to understand how high the stakes are here. this isn’t just another bust. we’re talking about a network deeply embedded in the underground scene. your role is crucial, and we’re relying on you to gather the evidence we need.” you swallowed hard, the weight of the chief’s words settling over you like a heavy cloak. “i'm aware of the stakes. i've been working to gain their trust and get close, but it takes time. i need to be careful not to blow my cover.”

“time is a luxury we don’t have,” the chief said. “the longer this drags on, the harder it will be to make a solid case. keep your focus, and remember why you’re there. every detail counts.”

“i understand,” you said, trying to convey both confidence and frustration. “i'll continue to gather information. i'm doing everything i can to get closer to the core of their operations.” the chief’s voice softened slightly, though the seriousness remained. “we’re counting on you. just remember, the risks are high. you’re dealing with people who won’t hesitate to protect their interests, even if it means turning on you.”

“i know,” you replied, your mind already racing through the myriad of details and strategies you’d been employing. “i’ll stay alert and ensure i don’t slip up.”

as the call ended, you tucked your phone away and took a deep breath. the reality of your double life weighed heavily on you. on the surface, you were a devoted manager, a trusted confidant to jungkook, and an integral part of his team. but beneath that facade, you were an undercover agent, meticulously gathering information to dismantle the very network you were helping to protect. you returned to the table where jungkook and namjoon were now discussing their plans for the upcoming fights. their laughter was genuine, their camaraderie a testament to the bond they shared. it was moments like these that made your dual role particularly challenging. the lines between your real and assumed identities blurred, making each interaction a delicate dance of deception and truth.

jungkook noticed your thoughtful expression and raised an eyebrow. “everything okay? you seem a bit distracted.” you forced a smile, shaking off the tension. “just dealing with some work stuff. nothing to worry about.” the conversation shifted back to the more relaxed aspects of the evening, but your mind remained preoccupied. the stakes were indeed high, and the pressure to deliver results was immense. the chief’s words echoed in your thoughts, a constant reminder of the precarious balance you were maintaining.

the morning sun filtered through the window of jungkook’s garage, casting a warm glow over the array of tools and motorcycle parts scattered about. the garage was filled with the comforting scent of oil and metal, an aroma that spoke of hard work and dedication. he was hunched over his prized motorcycle, his brow furrowed in frustration as he examined the engine. the sleek, custom-built machine was a promise to his passion, a piece he’d invested considerable time and savings into.

you walked into the garage, your footsteps echoing softly on the concrete floor. the sight of jungkook wrestling with the motorcycle brought a smile to your face. his concentration was intense, but there was a touch of exasperation in his movements. “morning, kook,” you greeted, your tone light and friendly. “nice bike you’ve got there.”

he looked up from the engine, a hint of surprise in his eyes. “oh, hey. yeah, i bought it with some of the money i saved from the fights. it’s been a project of mine for a while. but something’s wrong with it. can’t figure out what’s the fucking problem.” you stepped closer, taking a casual but appreciative look at the motorcycle. the chrome gleamed under the garage lights, and the sleek lines of the bike spoke of both speed and elegance. “can i take a look?” you asked, a curious glint in your eyes.

he raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of skepticism and curiosity. “you sure? it’s not exactly a simple fix.”

“trust me,” you said with a smile. he hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “alright. be my guest. just don’t blame me if you can’t figure it out.”

you chuckled softly and knelt beside the motorcycle, your fingers gently probing the various components. as you worked, jungkook watched intently, his gaze more focused and thoughtful than it had ever been. the morning light highlighted the subtle changes in his expression, the admiration and curiosity mingling with his usual composure.

after a few moments of examining the engine, you spotted the issue—a loose connection in the fuel system. you reached for the toolbox, which he had set aside on a nearby workbench. “i see what’s wrong,” you said, pulling out the necessary tools. “it’s a loose connector in the fuel line. should be an easy fix.” his eyes followed your movements closely as you worked with practiced precision. there was a palpable sense of concentration and respect in his gaze as he observed you maneuvering around the engine.

“you’d never taken me for a mechanic, huh?” you said, trying to keep the mood light as you tightened the connector. he shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “no, i wouldn’t have. you’ve got a lot of skills i didn’t expect.”

you looked up from your work, meeting his gaze. “guys don’t usually like it when you know more about stuff like this than they do. tend to get a bit defensive.” jungkook’s smile widened slightly. “that’s not always true. sometimes it’s impressive.”

there was a moment of silence between you, charged with a new kind of tension. the air seemed to thrum with a quiet understanding, a recognition of each other’s capabilities and the unspoken connection that had been building. you cleared your throat, snapping back to reality. “alright, that should do it. let’s see if it works now.”

he started the engine, and the motorcycle roared to life with a satisfying growl. his face lit up with a triumphant grin. “you’ve definitely earned some points with this fix.” you stood up, brushing your hands off and offering him a smile. “glad i could help.”

as jungkook shut down the engine, you leaned against the workbench, your gaze drifting over the bike. “i always wanted one of these growing up,” you said wistfully. “but i never had the money for something like this.” his expression softened, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “well, you’ve got good taste. maybe one day you’ll have your own.” the moment lingered, filled with the quiet satisfaction of shared experiences and unspoken dreams. the garage, with its tools and mechanical parts, seemed to be a place where barriers fell away, allowing for honest exchanges and deeper connections.

the rhythmic rumble of another motorcycle echoed through the garage, growing louder until it arrived with a sharp, practiced turn. the door of the garage creaked open, and namjoon’s sleek black bike came into view. he dismounted with an air of casual confidence, his leather jacket catching the light as he approached. “what’s going on here?” he asked, his gaze sweeping over the scene. “i heard the bike running and thought something was up.”

jungkook straightened, wiping his hands on a rag with a satisfied grin. “just getting this piece of shit back in shape. our very own mechanic over here fixed it up for me.”

namjoon’s eyebrows arched skeptically as he turned his attention to you. “i find that hard to believe. you reckon you could help me figure out the difference between a carburetor and a fuel injector?” you met Namjoon’s challenge with a calm, confident demeanor. “a carburetor mixes air and fuel before sending it into the engine, while a fuel injector directly sprays fuel into the combustion chamber. the injector's more precise and used in modern engines for better efficiency.”

his eyes widened slightly, clearly taken aback. “well, i’ll be damned. you actually know your stuff.” you shrugged nonchalantly. “i guess i’ve picked up a thing or two over the years.”

he chuckled, shaking his head in mild disbelief. “i’m impressed. didn’t take you for someone who could handle mechanical work.” jungkook’s grin widened at the compliment directed your way. “i told you. she’s full of surprises.”

his expression shifted to a more serious one as he turned to jungkook. “alright, enough about engines. are you ready for tonight’s fight?” his posture straightened, his earlier amusement replaced by a steely focus. “absolutely. i'm set and ready.”

namjoon nodded approvingly. “good. you’ve been training hard, and it shows. How about we celebrate the win in advance? there’s a bar nearby. what do you say?” you raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “it’s a bit early for a drink, don’t you think?”

he waved a dismissive hand. “come on, it’s never too early to unwind. besides, it’s a good way to keep the pre-fight nerves at bay.” jungkook chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “i’m in. let’s go.”

namjoon mounted his bike again, starting it with a throaty roar. he gave a quick nod before revving off, heading toward the bar. jungkook turned to you, his gaze steady and commanding. “you coming with me?” for a moment, you locked eyes with him, the shared look filled with an unspoken connection. the intensity of the gaze lasted just long enough for you to feel a flutter of something you couldn’t quite name. he broke the gaze first, reaching into the compartment of his bike and pulling out a spare helmet. he held it out to you with a small, purposeful smile. “here. you’ll need this.”

you took the helmet, your fingers brushing against his. the contact was brief but charged with an electric undercurrent. without hesitation, you climbed onto the back of his motorcycle. as you settled into place, you pulled it on, the fit snug and secure. jungkook mounted the bike and you wrapped your arms around his waist, your body pressed closely against his. as the engine roared to life beneath you, you felt a sudden jolt of warmth spread through your chest, a tightness that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. his body tensed slightly, the proximity and the touch creating a momentary disquiet that he quickly tried to brush aside.

he shifted gears smoothly, guiding the bike out of the garage and onto the road. the city streets opened up before you, the wind rushing past as you rode together. the sensation of riding close to him, the hum of the engine, and the rhythm of the ride created a blend of exhilaration and intimacy that was both thrilling and new. despite his efforts to maintain his usual demeanor, jungkook found his thoughts drifting, his focus divided between the road and the feeling of your presence against him. the moment felt charged, filled with an undercurrent of emotions he hadn’t anticipated.

as you approached the bar, the familiar sight of neon lights and the sound of music drifting out into the street signaled the end of the ride. jungkook brought the motorcycle to a smooth stop, and you dismounted, removing your helmet and handing it back to him. “thanks for the ride,” you said, your voice carrying a hint of playfulness. he gave a small, appreciative smile. “anytime.”

as you both headed into the bar, the lively atmosphere greeted you with its own brand of energy. the transition from the quiet intimacy of the ride to the bustling noise of the bar was stark but welcome. the bar was a popular spot, filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft strains of background music. jungkook and you joined namjoon at a corner table, the conversation flowing easily as you settled into the evening’s relaxation. the ride had been a brief but significant interlude, a reminder of the connections and emotions that lurked just beneath the surface of your everyday interactions.

as you and jungkook settled in with namjoon, the initial tension from the ride melted away, replaced by the easy camaraderie of the evening. the clink of glasses and the low murmur of conversations filled the space, creating a lively backdrop for your conversation.

as you were halfway through your drink, namjoon’s gaze shifted, his expression growing serious. he scanned the room with a practiced eye, his focus settling on a small group of people seated at the bar. your heart skipped a beat as you noticed the presence of a few uniformed officers mingling among the patrons. you tensed, your mind racing with thoughts of the potential repercussions.

you quickly assessed the situation. the officers did not display any clear signs that they were part of your agency—no badges, no identifying marks. still, the sight of law enforcement so close was unnerving. you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. the last thing you wanted was to draw unwanted attention or raise suspicion. jungkook, sensing your shift in demeanor, noticed the cops as well. “fucking hate those pigs,” he muttered, his tone a mixture of disdain and frustration. “always sticking their asses in other people's shit.”

you looked at him curiously, trying to understand the root of his animosity. “don't like them much, do you?” namjoon’s body language shifted noticeably. his shoulders tensed, and he took a deep sip of his drink, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. there was a brief pause as jungkook hesitated, his gaze dropping to his glass.

“some shit that happened a while ago,” he began slowly. “dad was running an underground ring, just like i am now. he was unarmed, didn’t even have a chance to defend himself. one of the officers on the scene shot him. just like that. it was—” his voice trailed off, and he clenched his jaw, struggling to maintain his composure. the room seemed to momentarily close in on you as the weight of his words settled heavily on your shoulders. you could see the pain etched in his features, the raw emotion barely concealed.

without thinking, you reached out and placed your hand gently on top of his, offering a gesture of solidarity. “i’m so sorry to hear that, kook. i can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you.” he looked up, meeting your eyes. there was a flicker of gratitude and vulnerability in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of your support. for a moment, the noise of the bar and the presence of the officers seemed to fade into the background. It was just the two of you, sharing a moment of understanding and empathy.

“thanks,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “it means a lot.” the intensity of the moment tugged at your conscience, a reminder of the complex web you were entangled in. the lines between your role as a manager and your undercover assignment blurred further, making the situation all the more complicated. Offering comfort and condolences felt genuine, but the deeper reality of your undercover mission gnawed at the edges of your thoughts.

namjoon’s gaze flickered between the two of you, his earlier tension giving way to a more subdued expression. he cleared his throat, trying to shift the atmosphere back to a lighter note. “well, let’s not let the past ruin our day. we’ve got a fight to look forward to, and jungkook, you’ve earned a drink.” the conversation gradually shifted back to more casual topics, though the earlier moment of connection lingered. as you continued to engage with them, your mind remained partially preoccupied with the weight of the conversation and the role you played in their lives.

as the evening wore on, namjoon excused himself, heading off to prepare the arena for the upcoming fight. you and jungkook decided to take a break from the bar’s buzzing atmosphere and stepped outside for a walk. the crisp night air was a welcome change, a quiet reprieve from the earlier chaos. you strolled alongside him, the city lights casting a gentle glow on the streets. the sound of distant traffic and the occasional hum of a passing car filled the space between your conversation. jungkook seemed more relaxed outside of the bar, and you noticed him opening up in a way he hadn’t earlier.

“my dad,” he began, his voice low and contemplative. “he wasn’t just about the fights. he was passionate about what he did, but he also cared about people. he was always helping those in need, even if it was in ways that weren’t exactly legal. i guess that’s why i followed in his footsteps, even if it’s not the safest path.”

you nodded, listening intently. “it sounds like he was a wonderful person. i'm sorry for what happened to him.” he glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. “you know, i’ve never really talked about this with anyone. not even namjoon. it feels different with you.”

you offered him a small, understanding smile. “i get it. i didn’t grow up under the same circumstances, but i understand what it’s like to lose a parent. my mom passed away when i was younger. it was just me and my dad after that. things were tough, but we made it through. i guess we both have our own battles, huh?” his expression softened, and he gave you a gentle nod. “yeah, we do. but talking about it with you, it makes me feel like someone actually understands. it’s comforting.”

you met his gaze, feeling a deep connection between the two of you. “it’s my job to understand you and protect you. that’s what i’m here for. to be your support.”

as you continued walking, the breeze picked up slightly, causing your ponytail to come loose. jungkook noticed, his eyes catching on the stray strands of hair that fluttered around your face. he reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your hair as he carefully pulled the band from his pocket and re-secured it.

the touch of his fingers against your hair sent a flutter of warmth through you. the closeness and the gentle care he displayed were unexpected, and your heart skipped a beat. you looked up at him, a mixture of surprise and appreciation in your gaze. he smiled, his expression tender and genuine. “you look pretty, you know that?”

the simplicity of the compliment, combined with the tenderness of his touch, made your heart race. it was a moment of vulnerability and connection, one that spoke volumes without needing many words. you couldn’t help but smile, feeling a blush creep up on your cheeks. as the two of you continued your walk, the city lights twinkling around you, the conversation and the moment left a lasting impression. the evening was filled with the promise of new beginnings and deeper connections, and for a brief moment, the complexities of your undercover mission seemed to fade into the background.

the night of the fight arrived, and the arena was packed to its capacity, a sea of excited faces and raucous cheers. the atmosphere was electric, charged with the anticipation of the evening’s main event. the lights dimmed, and the spotlight focused on the ring as the crowd’s energy swelled.

you were in the backstage area, working diligently to get jungkook ready. his focus was intense, but you could see the flicker of nerves in his eyes. you handed him a bottle of water, his hand reaching out automatically. as you saw his hands tremble slightly, a thought struck you. you took the bottle from him and, with a reassuring smile, placed it between his lips, tilting it just enough to let the water flow. his eyes widened in surprise as you fed him the water directly. the unexpected intimacy of the gesture, combined with the softness of your touch, made his heart race. he stared at you, his mind momentarily drifting away from the fight. all he could think about was how pretty you looked, the way the arena lights highlighted your features, and the concern in your eyes.

when the bell rang, signaling the start of the first round, his thoughts were overwhelmed by the image of you. the distraction was so profound that he found himself unprepared for the fight. his opponent took advantage of his disorientation, and jungkook lost the first round. frustration and self-reproach etched into his face as he returned to his corner.

you were immediately at his side, damp cloth in hand, working to clean the sweat and blood from his face. namjoon stood close, his expression a mix of concern and determination. “fuck, jungkook,” he urged. “you need to pull it together.”

“you’ve got this,” you added, your voice steady and encouraging. “just remember why you’re here. you’ve trained for this.”

he nodded, trying to shake off the fog of distraction. the bell rang again for the second round. as he stepped back into the ring, he could barely keep his mind off you. your presence, your words, and the way you had cared for him earlier seemed to have taken hold of his focus. the result was another loss, the second round slipping through his fingers.

back in the corner, you were there once more, helping him with his injuries. you looked into his eyes, concern etched in your features. “you need to pull yourself together, jungkook. focus on the fight, not on anything else.” he took a deep breath, nodding. “i promise i'll do better.”

yet, even as he promised to refocus, the thought of you lingered in his mind, a powerful and distracting force. the realization dawned on him: you were watching him, supporting him, and it made him understand the weight of his need to win. it wasn’t just about the fight anymore; it was about proving himself to you, showing that he could rise above the distraction and succeed.

as the bell rang for the final round, jungkook entered the ring with a newfound resolve. the image of you, your concern, and your encouragement became his driving force. the focus was clear, the distraction gone. with a powerful surge of energy, he fought with a precision and determination that had eluded him earlier. the fight turned in his favor, and the crowd erupted in cheers as he landed the decisive blows that secured his victory.

back in the corner, you rushed to him as the final bell rang. you wiped his sweat-streaked face, offering him the water bottle once more. as you gently placed the bottle between his lips, your touch was soft, and the moment was filled with a tenderness that made his heart skip a beat. the victory, combined with the warmth of your support, felt complete. he looked at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and something deeper—an emotion that went beyond the fight. the gesture of you taking care of him, the victory he had achieved, and the closeness of the moment all blended together, creating a sense of fulfillment and connection.

the night ended with jungkook’s triumph and the shared celebration of his win. the arena slowly emptied, the crowd’s energy fading into quiet satisfaction. as you and him stood together, the intensity of the night left you both with a profound sense of accomplishment and a new understanding of each other. in the afterglow of the victory, his gaze lingered on you, and he knew that the fight had been about more than just the arena. it had been about proving something to himself and to you.

the night was far from over, and after the intense fight and the victory celebration, the three of you decided to head to a friend's party. jimin, a mutual friend who had been unable to attend the fight due to hosting this very gathering, had invited you all to unwind and enjoy the night further. the house was a lively, dimly lit loft with music thumping and people chatting, making it clear that this was no ordinary party. the air was thick with an intoxicating mix of excitement and something less than legal.

as you arrived, he greeted you with an enthusiastic hug. “you all made it, heard about the fight. congrats, jungkook.” namjoon clapped him on the back and passed you both drinks. “thanks, jimin. it was a rough one, but he pulled through. now, we’re here to celebrate.”

you and jungkook stood together, enjoying the lively atmosphere when a group of girls approached. their attention was unmistakably on jungkook. “hey,” one of them said with a flirtatious smile. “you were amazing tonight. can i buy you a drink?” another chimed in, “yeah, you've definitely earned a drink or two.”

he glanced at you, his expression clearly irritated but polite. “thanks, but i’m actually here with someone. i’d prefer to stay with my friends.” the girls looked disappointed but maintained their smiles, making a half-hearted attempt to linger. “well, if you change your mind.—” jungkook shook his head, turning back to you. “sorry about that. some people just can't take a hint.”

you chuckled, squeezing his shoulder. “no need to apologize. we're here with you, and that’s what matters.”

the evening wore on, and you and jungkook accepted a joint from jimin, who was eagerly discussing the fight. “man, i really wish i could've seen it,” he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “how'd it go?”

jungkook and namjoon recounted the details of the fight, their voices animated and full of excitement. “you should have been there, fuck. it was intense,” jungkook said. “but we made it through.”

as the night continued, jungkook started to feel lightheaded from the combination of the party atmosphere, the drinks, and the joint. his movements became sluggish, and he glanced at you with a slight frown. “hey, i think i need a break,” he said, his voice tinged with concern. you nodded, guiding him gently toward the stairs. let’s get you somewhere quiet. you need to rest.” you were just as fucked as he was, but it seemed to had taken a greater toll on him.

you led him up to a bedroom, away from the noise of the party. the room was dimly lit, offering a peaceful respite. he laid down on the bed, his body sinking into the comfort of the mattress. you sat beside him, making sure he was okay. he looked up at you, his eyes searching for something. “you know, during the fight, i was so distracted. i couldn’t stop thinking about you.” you furrowed your brow, concern etching into your features. “about me?”

he sighed, reaching out to touch your hand. “kept focusing on you. the way you took care of me, the way you looked tonight—it all made it hard to concentrate.” you nodded, understanding the depth of his emotions. “so, how did you manage to pull through despite that?”

“it was because of you,” he admitted softly. “you’re the reason i pushed through, the reason i wanted to win. i couldn’t let you down.” the vulnerability in his voice and the sincerity of his words touched you deeply. without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him gently. the kiss was tender, filled with the emotion and connection that had been building between you. jungkook responded with equal softness, his lips moving against yours with a sense of longing and relief.

his hands moved down to your waist, slipping under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin. the alcohol and weed had lowered your inhibitions, and you found yourself craving the intimacy that had been hinted at for so long. you pulled away from the kiss and looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or regret. but all you saw was desire, raw and unfiltered. your heart raced as you reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the intricate tattoos that snaked down his arm.

his sleeve tattoo was your favorite, a dark, twisting design that mirrored the chaotic passion you felt in that moment. as you traced the ink with your fingertips, jungkook shivered and pulled you closer, his hands roaming over your body with increasing urgency. the room was spinning slightly, but you didn’t care. all that mattered was the heat building between you, the way your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces.

his hands found their way to the button of your pants, and with trembling fingers, he undid them. you stepped out of them, allowing him to explore further. the anticipation was almost unbearable, but you knew that you both needed this. as he kissed you again, you could feel the weight of his erection pressing against you. you broke the kiss to whisper, “are you sure about this?” jungkook’s eyes searched yours, and with a nod, he whispered, “i've never been more sure.” and with that, any remaining doubts were erased, and you gave in to the moment.

you pushed him back onto the bed, and he watched as you removed your shirt, revealing your lacy bra. his eyes were dark with lust as he reached out and unclipped it, letting your tits spill into his waiting hands. you moaned at his touch, feeling his thumbs brush against your sensitive nipples. his mouth followed, kissing and sucking until you were arching into him, desperate for more. your hands fumbled with his pants, finally freeing his cock. it was hot and hard, and you couldn’t resist taking it in your hand, stroking him slowly as he groaned.

his hands were everywhere, exploring your body with a hunger that left you breathless. your clothes were scattered on the floor, and you were both naked, lost in the haze of desire and intoxication. jungkook’s mouth traveled down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bites that sent shivers down your spine. your hands tangled in his hair as he moved further south, his tongue teasing your navel before finally reaching between your legs. he licked you gently, and you moaned, your body reacting instinctively to his touch. the sensation was overwhelming, and you spread your legs wider, giving him better access.

his tongue danced around your clit, and you could feel yourself getting wetter with every stroke. your moans grew louder as he pushed a finger inside you, pumping it in and out in a steady rhythm. jungkook’s eyes were focused on yours, watching as you writhed under his touch. “you're dripping, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. your eyes rolled back as he added another finger, curling them inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made your toes curl. “fuck, jungkook,” you breathed, your grip tightening in his hair. “right there, don’t stop.” he smirked up at you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, and continued his relentless assault on your senses. your orgasm was building, and you could feel it about to crash over you like a wave.

before it could, he pulled away, leaving you gasping for air. he stood up, his cock bobbing with need, and reached into his nightstand. he pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom, but paused, looking at you with a question in his eyes. “we should—” you began, but he cut you off with a shake of his head. “no, i wanna feel all of you. wanna risk it all tonight.” something in his tone made your heart pound even harder. you nodded, unable to form words, and watched as he squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. he positioned himself between your legs, and you felt his slick digits pushing into you again, preparing you for what was to come.

once he was satisfied, he leaned over you, his cock pressing against your cunt. you could feel the head of his dick, thick and demanding, and you spread your legs even wider, silently begging for him to fill you. he didn’t make you wait long. with one smooth thrust, he was inside you, and you cried out, the sensation of fullness almost too much. he took his time, pushing inch by inch, making sure you felt every part of him. your walls clenched around him, trying to adjust to his size, and he groaned in response. “fuck, you’re squeezing me,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours.

once he was fully seated, he began to move, his hips rocking against yours in a rhythm that felt like it had been written into your very soul. his tattooed arm flexed as he held himself up, the muscles rippling in the dim light of the room. the sound of skin slapping skin filled the air, punctuated by your gasps and his grunts. you reached up to trace the tattoo on his bicep as he fucked you, the sensation of his ink against your skin adding another layer of intensity to the moment. “you like that?” he asked, his voice strained. “you like watching me come undone? just like that?”

you nodded, unable to speak, your entire world narrowed down to the feeling of him inside you. jungkook’s movements grew more urgent, his breath coming in pants. “i’m gonna cum, baby,” he warned you, and you felt your own orgasm building in response. together, you tumbled over the edge, your bodies shaking with the force of your release. for a moment, you were lost in the pleasure, the world outside the bedroom forgotten.

the moment after was filled with a profound sense of connection, but it was quickly overshadowed by a wave of guilt that washed over you. the intensity of the kiss and the shared vulnerability made you question the boundaries and the nature of your feelings. you were lost in thought, contemplating the implications of what had just happened, when the moment was abruptly interrupted.

namjoon burst into the room, his face a mix of anger and urgency. “dammit!” he exclaimed, his eyes widening as he quickly averted his gaze. “what the hell are you two doing?” you and jungkook scrambled to get dressed, the sudden shift from intimacy to panic jarring. “what’s going on?” you asked, trying to remain calm despite the adrenaline surging through you.

“the cops are on their way here,” namjoon said, his voice tight with worry. “we need to leave. now.” panic set in as you hurriedly pulled on your clothes. his warning about the approaching police made you realize the gravity of the situation. “what about the arena?” you asked, your mind racing.

“it’s at risk,” he said. “we have to get out of here. cops'll be all over this place.”

with no time to spare, the three of you fled the room and rushed out of the house. the sound of sirens grew louder, the flashing lights visible even from a distance. namjoon led the way as you all sprinted across the yard, making your way towards a field of tall grass just beyond the property. breathing heavily, you threw yourselves into the cover of the grass, lying still and trying to remain as quiet as possible. the police lights flashed intermittently through the blades of grass, casting eerie shadows as the sirens wailed in the distance. the field was a safe haven for the moment, offering concealment from the approaching officers.

jungkook’s eyes met yours, and despite the tension, a burst of adrenaline made you both laugh softly. the sheer absurdity of the situation—a fight, a party, and now a narrow escape from the law—was almost surreal. his laughter was infectious, and it lightened the mood despite the circumstances. in a moment of unexpected tenderness, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. the touch was soothing amidst the chaos, a small gesture that spoke volumes about his feelings. “we’ll get through this,” he whispered, his voice a comforting presence in the midst of the turmoil. you nodded, returning his smile with one of your own. “yeah, we will. just gotta stay calm.”

the sirens continued to blare, the flashing lights casting sporadic bursts of color across the field. you laid there, the grass rustling around you, feeling the weight of the night’s events and the relief of being together in that moment. the danger wasn’t over yet, but having jungkook by your side and sharing a laugh amidst the chaos made the situation feel more manageable. as the police lights began to fade into the distance and the sound of the sirens grew quieter, you knew the immediate danger had passed. the three of you would need to find a safer place and regroup, but for now, you took solace in the small victories and the connection you shared.

the next morning, the office was unusually quiet. you were at your desk, sifting through the paperwork that had piled up while you were away. the rhythm of typing and the occasional murmur of your colleagues provided a familiar, mundane backdrop that starkly contrasted the chaos of the previous night.

as you focused on your tasks, the chief, a grizzled man with an air of authority and a no-nonsense attitude, sauntered into the office. he glanced around and then fixed his gaze on you with a knowing look. “so,” he said, his tone casual but laced with an edge. “you have fun last night?”

you looked up from your desk, forcing a light laugh in an attempt to downplay the situation. “oh, so you know about that?” the chief’s expression didn’t change. “our men were at the scene. ‘course i fucking know.”

a pang of anxiety shot through you. the implications of his words were clear—your covert activities hadn’t gone unnoticed. you straightened in your chair, trying to maintain a composed demeanor. “it’s all part of the plan,” you said, hoping to sound more confident than you felt. “i need their trust more than anything.” he raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his gaze. “they’re all scum. don’t let that gladiator get to you. you’re not dick-whipped, are you? letting him get under your skin?”

the directness of his question made you stiffen. you bristled at the insinuation, but a flutter of warmth at the back of your mind told a different story. you met his eyes, trying to mask the conflicting emotions stirring inside you. “no, i’m not,” you said, your voice firm despite the slight quiver. “i’m focused on the job. i'll deal with it.”

the chief’s gaze softened, a flicker of something resembling approval—or at least reluctant acceptance—in his eyes. “good. because if you let your personal feelings mess with the mission, it’s going to end badly. i need you sharp and clear-headed.” you nodded, your mind racing to balance the professional demands with your personal feelings. “i understand. i’ll make sure it doesn’t affect my work.”

he gave a curt nod, acknowledging your assurance. “alright then. let’s keep things on track. and remember, this is bigger than any one person. focus on the endgame.” as he walked away, you were left with a heavy weight of responsibility and a swirl of conflicting emotions. the night had brought clarity to your feelings for jungkook, but it also complicated your position. the fluttering in your heart, the way your thoughts drifted to him, and the guilt from the sex made it challenging to separate your personal feelings from your professional obligations.

you took a deep breath, grounding yourself in the tasks ahead. the office was a world apart from the adrenaline-fueled night you had experienced, but the pressures of your double life pressed down heavily. as you dove back into your work, you resolved to keep your emotions in check and ensure that your mission remained the priority. whatever feelings you had, you had to manage them carefully, balancing the complexities of your role with the intensity of the situation you were entrenched in.

the afternoon sun bathed the arena in a warm, golden light as you arrived, your mind still buzzing from the morning's tense conversation with your chief. you were focused, determined to stay on top of your game and support jungkook through his next fight. as you approached the entrance, you spotted him leaning against his motorcycle, which was not the one you were familiar with. it was sleek, black with pink undertones, and gleamed in the sunlight—a stark contrast to his usual bike. your heart skipped a beat as you walked closer.

“hey,” you called out, trying to keep your tone casual despite the knot of curiosity forming in your stomach. jungkook’s face broke into a warm smile. “hey. i've got something for you.”

he gestured towards the new motorcycle, and your eyes widened. “don't tell me it's the bike.” he nodded, a proud grin on his face. “yeah. i wanted to get you something special. you’ve done so much for me, and i thought it was time you had something of your own.”

tears of joy welled up in your eyes as you took in the generous gesture. “jungkook, i can’t accept this. it’s too much.” he shook his head, stepping closer and gently taking your hand. “no, you deserve it. you’ve been there for me through everything. i want you to have it.”

before you could protest further, he pulled you into a heartfelt hug. the warmth of his embrace and the kindness of his gesture overwhelmed you. as he kissed your cheek, a rush of guilt mingled with your happiness. you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were betraying your mission, even though his gesture was deeply meaningful.

inside the arena, you moved swiftly to get him ready for his fight. you checked his gear, offered him water, and gave him encouraging words. “stay sharp out there,” you advised. “remember everything we’ve worked on. you’ve got this.” as the first bell rang, signaling the start of the fight, you watched intently from the sidelines, your eyes locked on him. the crowd’s cheers and roars filled the space with an electrifying energy.

a man approached you, and you turned to face him, trying to maintain a polite demeanor. “hey there,” he said with a flirtatious grin. “i’ve seen you around. how about we get to know each other better?” you tried to brush off the unwanted attention. “i’m actually in a relationship. i'm here to support jungkook.”

the man’s persistent advances began to grate on your nerves. “come on, don’t be like that. a little fun never hurt anyone.” jungkook’s attention started to waver as he caught sight of the interaction. his focus shifted from his opponent to the scene unfolding near you. he tried to refocus, shaking his head to clear the distraction, but the sight of the man sliding his arms around your waist pushed him over the edge.

a surge of red-hot anger flared within him. with a final, powerful hit, he sent his opponent crashing to the floor, unconscious. the crowd’s cheers turned to gasps and cries of shock as he leaped over the ropes, his eyes locked on the man still encroaching on you. before you could react, his fists were flying, and the man was being pummeled. you rushed forward, trying to intervene, but he was beyond listening. his rage was palpable, his movements swift and unrestrained. you could see the fury in his eyes, the protective instinct that had driven him to this violent response.

“jungkook, cut that shit out,” you begged, but he didn’t seem to hear you over the roar of the crowd. his punches landed with fierce precision until namjoon burst through the chaos and managed to pull him off the man. jungkook resisted for a moment, but his firm grip and authoritative presence finally got through to him.

the crowd’s mood had shifted from excitement to panic, and the atmosphere became charged with tension. namjoon, his face set in grim determination, turned to you. “we need to get the fuck out of here. the cops'll be on their way soon.”

realizing the gravity of the situation, you nodded, your heart pounding with urgency. jungkook, still seething, was led away by namjoon, his anger slowly giving way to a mix of confusion and regret. you followed, your mind racing with the consequences of the night’s events and the escalating danger that now loomed over all of you. as you all made a hurried exit, the once vibrant arena was left behind in chaos, the night’s promise of celebration now overshadowed by the threat of impending law enforcement. the adrenaline of the fight and the emotions it stirred were far from over, and the path ahead was uncertain.

the roar of engines filled the air as the three of you sped through the city streets. the thrill of the ride was a stark contrast to the tension that had marked the earlier chaos at the arena. namjoon led the way, navigating through the bustling cityscape with practiced ease, and you followed closely behind him, your heart pounding from both the adrenaline of the ride and the uncertainty of what lay ahead. the city’s vibrant energy gradually gave way to quieter, more secluded areas. namjoon slowed, eventually coming to a stop in a part of town where a crowd had gathered around a cluster of motorcycles, cars, and people. the noise was a mix of idle chatter, the hum of engines, and the occasional burst of laughter.

as you dismounted your bike, you noticed namjoon making his way toward a tall man with a confident stance and an air of effortless cool. he was greeted with a casual, friendly dap, and you followed namjoon’s lead, approaching the man.

“this is seokjin,” he introduced, gesturing to the man. “he runs a similar setup to jungkook’s, but with street racing. one of korea’s best drivers.” the man turned his attention to you, offering a charming smile. “nice to meet you. heard a lot about you. pretty and skilled—quite a combination. see you've got a bike of your own.”

jungkook’s eyes narrowed slightly, his earlier frustration still simmering beneath the surface. you could sense his tension as he observed seokjin’s interaction with you. despite his evident discomfort, you managed a polite smile. “thank you. jungkook actually gifted it to me.” you patted the sleek machine, its gleaming surface catching the low light. “mt-09, master of torque.”

seokjin’s eyes lit up with genuine interest. “impressive knowledge. are you familiar with cars too?” you nodded in response, “i am.”

his expression shifted to one of intrigue. “how would you like to get behind the wheel of a real beast? i can offer you some cash for a race. interested?” jungkook tensed beside you, his concern evident. “fuck no, it’s too dangerous. i don’t think you should do it.”

you met his gaze, trying to convey your resolve. “i wanna do this, i'm sure it'll be fine.” you leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, an unspoken promise that you’d be careful. his eyes softened, a mixture of pride and worry flickering in his gaze.

seokjin led you to a sleek, well-maintained toyota supra, its polished surface reflecting the streetlights, before pointing to the car next to it, where a man stood. there was a dangerous glint in his eyes, though his expreasion was lifeless. “this is yoongi, your competitor tonight.” the man in his late twenties, leaning casually against his car, gave you a cursory glance. “i almost feel bad for having to shit on a pretty thing like you,” he said, his tone a mix of challenge and mock sympathy.

you met his gaze with a determined smile. “yeah, you can take it up the ass.” with the crowd forming around the makeshift racetrack, you glanced at jungkook one last time, drawing strength from his supportive, yet concerned, look. the roar of engines and the buzz of excitement from the crowd created a charged atmosphere as the race was about to begin.

the signal was given, and yoongi took the lead within seconds, his car darting ahead with impressive speed. you shifted into high gear, focusing on the road and the techniques your father had taught you. the streets blurred around you as you maneuvered through the turns with precision. your father’s advice echoed in your mind, guiding you as you expertly handled the car, swerving through tight corners and accelerating past obstacles.

as you approached the finish line, you could see yoongi’s car trailing closely behind. with one final burst of speed and a deft maneuver around a sharp turn, you pulled ahead, crossing the finish line just moments before him. the crowd erupted in cheers and applause as you stepped out of the car.

he approached, extending a hand to shake yours. “congratulations. guess you reslly aren't just pretty,” he murmured, handing you a bundle of cash. “thanks,” you replied, shaking his hand firmly. “not too bad yourself.”

as you walked back to where jungkook and seokjin were waiting, jungkook enveloped you in a tight embrace, his relief and pride palpable. he pressed a passionate kiss to your lips, his warmth and affection a stark contrast to the adrenaline of the race. seokjin, watching the interaction with a satisfied grin, clapped you on the back. “did better than i expected.”

you smiled, feeling a mix of exhilaration and contentment from the night’s events. the thrill of the race, the camaraderie with people you had met not too long ago, and the respect all combined to make for a memorable evening. despite the underlying complexities what tugged at your morality, the night had been a reminder of your capabilities above all else, and you needed to remind yourself that you were capable.

the night continued to buzz with excitement as seokjin, fueled by the spontaneous energy, turned to namjoon with a gleam in his eye. “how about a race, joon? one of my drivers versus you. what do you say?” namjoon, ever confident despite his lack of experience, nodded enthusiastically. “i’m up for it. i’ve missed racing.”

jungkook, still nursing his own frustration from the evening’s events, frowned. “you sure about this? you’re not the most qualified driver out here.” he waved off the concern with a chuckle. “i’ve got it. don’t worry.”

you glanced at jungkook, who gave you a reassuring smile but the worry in his eyes was unmistakable. “good luck,” you said softly, hoping for the best as namjoon mounted his own motorcycle, ready to race. seokjin guided him to the starting line, introducing him to his opponent—a sleek, modern bike that gleamed under the streetlights. with a rev of engines and a burst of speed, the race was underway.

at first, he held a steady lead. his experience showed as he expertly navigated the turns, his confidence palpable. you watched from the sidelines, a mixture of pride and anxiety stirring in your chest. jungkook stood beside you, his gaze fixed on the race, a subtle tension in his posture. but as the race neared its climax, disaster struck. namjoon’s bike, under the strain of high-speed maneuvering, began to falter. the powerful engine sputtered unpredictably, and before he could correct his path, the bike lurched violently. he swerved uncontrollably and slammed into a guardrail with a sickening crash, metal screeching and the bike crumpling under the impact.

the sound of the collision cut through the cheers and gasps of the crowd. you and jungkook bolted toward the wreckage, pushing through the dispersing crowd. the sight before you was harrowing: namjoon lay motionless on the asphalt, the bike a twisted wreck beside him. jungkook dropped to his knees beside him, his face a mask of panic. “joon, fuck. come on, wake up,” he shook his shoulders desperately.

you fumbled for your phone, your hands trembling uncontrollably. the reality of the situation was hitting you with crushing force. the distant wail of the crowd grew louder, but the urgency of your own panic threatened to drown it out. “i’ll call for help,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to keep it steady. you dialed 911, your fingers shaking so violently you could barely press the numbers. the line rang endlessly, each second stretching into an eternity. as you waited for someone to pick up, you glanced anxiously at jungkook, who was still desperately trying to rouse namjoon. the sight of his mentor lying unconscious, blood smeared across the pavement, fueled your rising dread.

finally, the call connected. “hello, this is officer (l/n), there’s been an accident—” you began, but the words caught in your throat. the name you had used felt foreign and heavy on your tongue. the stark realization of your own duplicity hit you like a ton of bricks. you froze, your heart racing as the gravity of your dual life crushed down on you.

the voice on the other end of the line was calm and professional, but your own mind was a storm of chaos. “hello? officer (l/n), are you there? we need details.”

you barely registered the questions, your gaze locked on jungkook. his face was etched with panic, his eyes darting between namjoon and you. when he heard you use the title, a look of sheer disbelief crossed his face, followed by a chilling silence. “officer (l/n)?” he repeated, his voice a strained whisper.

your heart pounded in your chest, and your mind raced to find the right words. You wanted to explain, to justify why you had hidden this part of yourself, but the words failed you. the enormity of your deception and the fear of jungkook’s reaction left you paralyzed. you opened your mouth, but only a strangled gasp emerged.

“hello? officer?” the dispatcher’s voice cut through your turmoil.

jungkook’s stunned silence was almost louder than the sirens approaching. his shock was palpable, a mixture of betrayal and confusion etched deeply into his features. “i—” you tried to speak, but the guilt weighed heavily on your shoulders. your double life had never felt so suffocating. his focus shifted back to namjoon, whose condition was worsening by the second. his worry about namjoon’s well-being was overriding the shock of your revelation. “get the help here now,” he barked into the phone, his voice a raw edge of panic.

“take namjoon,” you said urgently, forcing yourself to stay calm despite the turmoil inside you. you fumbled with two pairs of keys, your fingers trembling with adrenaline as you did so. “take my bike and go to my house, they won't find you there. i'l take the fall. just go.”

jungkook’s eyes met yours, a flicker of gratitude visible despite the chaos. he didn’t say a word, his expression a complex blend of emotions that you couldn’t fully decipher. without another moment’s hesitation, he took the keys you offered him, gripping them tightly as if they were the last piece of hope in a dire situation.

he carefully lifted namjoon onto your bike, his movements quick but deliberate. as he started the engine, the roar of the motorcycle cut through the night, mingling with the distant wail of sirens that grew louder with each passing second. jungkook cast one last, lingering look at you, his face a mask of silent resolve, before speeding off into the darkness. you watched him disappear into the night, the weight of your decision settling heavily on your chest. the sirens grew closer, their piercing sound a grim reminder of the consequences awaiting you. alone now, you stood amid the chaos, the reality of your predicament crashing down around you. the distance between you and jungkook felt like a chasm, one that you knew might never be fully bridged.

the sirens reached a fever pitch as the police cars skidded to a halt at the scene, their flashing lights casting frantic shadows across the pavement. the officers poured out, their faces a mix of concern and suspicion as they scanned the area. you stood alone, feeling the crushing weight of your own choices.

the chief, his presence suffocating, approached you with a measured stride. his eyes flicked over the chaos—the crumpled body of namjoon's bike, the skid marks from the crash, the trail of blood. there was no trace of surprise on his face, only a steely, practiced calm. “have you apprehended the suspects?” he asked, his voice clipped.

you swallowed hard, your throat dry and constricted. “i let them go,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, though it wavered with the enormity of the admission. the chief’s lips curled into a humorless smile, a cold chuckle escaping his lips. it lacked warmth and carried an edge of dark amusement. “turn in your gun and badge,” he instructed, his tone brooking no argument.

you nodded numbly and reached into your jacket, removing the badge and firearm with trembling hands. the weight of the gun felt oddly comforting as you placed it into his outstretched hand, but you knew its significance in this moment was far different. the chief inspected the items with a scrutinizing eye before tucking them into his belt. he fixed you with a piercing gaze, one that seemed to bore into your very soul. “maybe it’s a good thing the gladiator escaped,” he said slowly, his voice taking on a menacing edge. the words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken implications.

you remained silent, the depth of his statement sinking in. your heart pounded in your chest, the dread rising like a tide. the chief’s words lingered, twisting around you like a noose. “if he didn’t,” the chief continued, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper, “i would’ve gunned him down just like his daddy.”

the implication was clear and devastating. your eyes widened in shock, the full weight of the threat crashing over you. you had always known that your role came with risks, but it was a cold, brutal revelation of just how far the system could reach. the chief’s gaze was implacable, his face a mask of hard determination and unyielding authority. the officers, having taken in the scene and your interaction with the chief, began to disperse. the sound of their footsteps receding was a grim backdrop to the finality of the chief’s words. he turned away, his silhouette disappearing into the night, leaving you alone in the fading light of the sirens.

the reality of what you had just heard hit you with a cold, numbing force. you stood there, stunned, the full impact of the chief’s threat crashing over you. your mind raced, struggling to process the layers of betrayal and fear that now enveloped you. as the last of the police cars pulled away, their red and blue lights dimming in the distance, you were left in the quiet aftermath. the night was eerily still, the only sound the distant hum of the city and the fading echoes of sirens. the darkness felt oppressive, and the weight of your decisions and the consequences they brought lay heavy on your shoulders.

you took jungkook's bike, the engine rumbling beneath you as you navigated the darkened streets back to your house. the night was a blur of flashing lights and shadows, your thoughts a jumbled mess of guilt and regret. the bike's power felt almost alien, the vibration beneath you a stark reminder of the chaotic night you had just endured. the road seemed endless, each turn a torturous loop as you wrestled with the weight of your decisions.

arriving at your house, you parked the bike and approached the front door with a heavy heart. the house, usually a haven, now felt like a prison of your own making. Inside, the quiet was punctuated by the faint hum of the heater and the distant thump of a heartbeat that was both your own and jungkook's, racing in unison.

you found him in your room, his presence a blend of familiarity and strangeness. he moved through the space with a deliberate slowness, his eyes taking in every detail as if trying to imprint it into his memory. the scent of your room, a mix of homey comfort and something more intimate, seemed to weigh heavily on him. he paused by the bedside, his gaze drawn to a framed photograph on the nightstand. in the photograph, you and your father were caught in a moment of unguarded happiness. your father’s arm was draped around you, his face alight with a smile that spoke of love and pride. jungkook’s fingers traced the edge of the frame, a soft, melancholic smile playing on his lips. the sight was a poignant reminder of the sacrifices you had made, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy mixed with his lingering anger.

the sound of the door creaking open pulled him from his reverie. you entered, your eyes red and puffy, your resolve steeled but your heart heavy. he looked up, his expression shifting from reflective to guarded as he met your gaze. “hey, officer (l/n). apprehend the suspects?” his voice was laden with a biting edge, the words a reminder of the betrayal he felt.

you swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. “i—” you began, your voice faltering, “i turned in my gun and badge.” the words felt like a confession, each syllable a stark reminder of the path you had chosen.

his eyes softened momentarily, a flicker of remorse crossing his face as he processed your sacrifice. he felt a pang of guilt for being the cause of your loss of income. But that guilt was overshadowed by the questions still gnawing at him. “so, was everything a lie?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. “when you cheered me on? when we kissed, fucked? all just part of some game?”

you shook your head, tears threatening to spill over. “no, jungkook,” you said softly. “it wasn’t a lie. everything i said, everything I felt—it was real. i enjoyed being your manager more than i ever enjoyed being an agent.” the room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. his gaze dropped to the floor, his mind racing through the events of the past days—the confusion, the betrayal, and the affection that had intertwined with it all. the silence was suffocating, a space filled with unspoken emotions and fractured trust.

you took a deep breath, your resolve firm despite the tears spilling down your cheeks. “it’s been a pleasure working with you, gladiator,” you said, the words almost a whisper as you turned to leave. he watched you walk away, his heart a tumult of conflicting emotions. as you exited the house, the cold night air hit you with a sharp bite, and you let your tears fall freely, each one a testament to the pain and regret of a choice made under duress. the night was dark, the streetlights casting a faint glow as you walked away from everything you had fought for, leaving behind a part of yourself in the house where jungkook now stood alone.

the days following your departure stretched out in agonizing silence. your absence left a void that seemed to echo through every corner of your life. in the solitude of your apartment, you numbed the pain with alcohol and smoke, each swig and puff a fleeting escape from the crushing weight of guilt and regret. your apartment, once a sanctuary, now felt like a prison of your own making, the walls closing in on you with every passing hour.

the hum of the city outside was a distant, indifferent noise as you stared blankly at the flickering screen of your television, the images a blur of color and sound that you barely registered. the drinks piled up, their empty bottles a testament to your attempts at self-forgetfulness. smoke curled in lazy spirals, filling the air with a pungent scent that clung to you like a second skin.

meanwhile, at the arena, jungkook was a shadow of his former self. the once vibrant atmosphere was now starkly empty, the space devoid of your encouraging presence. his training sessions were lackluster, his movements sluggish and uninspired. namjoon watched with growing frustration as his performance faltered, his concern for his friend shifting into irritation.

“pull yourself together, jungkook,” namjoon’s voice was a harsh whip crack against the stillness of the gym. “you’re slipping. the arena needs you sharp, not distracted.” jungkook’s jaw clenched, his hands trembling slightly as he wiped sweat from his brow. “i can’t focus,” he admitted, his voice low but laden with frustration. “it’s hard when you’re missing someone who was always there.”

namjoon’s expression hardened. “you’re letting your personal issues interfere with your performance. she’s a rat, jungkook—a fucking snitch. she betrayed us, and you can’t afford to let that mess with your head.” jungkook’s eyes flared with anger. “don’t talk about her like that,” he snapped. “she sacrificed everything for us. she lost her job for us. and this is how you repay her? by calling her a traitor?”

namjoon’s face softened just a fraction, a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. “i know it’s tough, but we have to move on. you need to stay focused, for the sake of the arena.” in his heart, he knew it was true, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. he was mourning you, and what he had with you. in the end, he had introduced you to the underground. now, he had to face it without you.

the night of the next match arrived, and the atmosphere in the arena was electric with anticipation. the stands were packed with spectators, their excited chatter a sharp contrast to the emptiness jungkook felt inside. as namjoon prepped him, the usual camaraderie was absent, replaced by a heavy silence that clung to them both. “get in there and show them what you’re made of,” he said, his voice clipped but tinged with a hint of reassurance. “remember, it’s all for the fight. for the arena.”

jungkook nodded, but his heart wasn’t in it. he wasn't doing it for the arena, he was doing it for you, and you were nowhere to be seen. he stepped into the ring, the roar of the crowd a distant thrum against the pounding of his own heartbeat. as the first round began, he tried to focus, but the absence of your presence was a constant ache in his chest. the cheers from the crowd were a painful reminder of what he had lost.

the bell rang, signaling the end of the first round. jungkook wiped sweat from his brow, his movements robotic. namjoon’s voice cut through the fog of his thoughts, a sharp reminder to stay sharp. “get your shit together, jungkook! focus!”

the second round began, and jungkook’s gaze darted around the arena, searching for a glimpse of you among the sea of faces. but you were nowhere to be seen. his distraction was palpable, his movements sluggish as he struggled to stay in the fight. his opponent took advantage of his lapses in concentration, landing hits that pushed him further off balance. by the end of the second round, he had lost once more, his frustration boiling over.

namjoon’s anger was barely contained as he stormed over to him, his voice a low growl. “what the fuck? you’re letting everything fall apart. this is not how you win fights.” jungkook’s head hung low, his breath coming in ragged gasps. the weight of his failure was almost unbearable. “i just—i need her,” he admitted quietly, his voice breaking. “i need her here with me.”

the third round loomed, and jungkook’s focus was shattered. the weight of the previous rounds and the constant search for a reassuring presence took its toll. as the bell rang, he stepped into the ring with a heavy heart, his movements hesitant and uncertain. the fight was brutal. he struggled to keep up, his opponent seizing every opportunity to land a blow. the crowd’s cheers turned into a blur of noise as jungkook’s energy waned. his defenses faltered, and he took a powerful hit that sent him crashing to the ground. the world spun around him, the pain a dull roar as he lost consciousness.

the referee’s voice cut through the haze, declaring the match over as medics rushed into the ring. jungkook laid motionless, his body sprawled out on the canvas. the crowd fell into stunned silence, their excitement replaced by concern. namjoon’s face was a mask of worry as he knelt beside him, his hands gripping the sides of his head, trying to rouse him.

“jungkook!” namjoon shouted, desperation edging his voice. “come on, wake the fuck up.” but he remained unmoving, his body slack and unresponsive. the arena was filled with the sound of frantic footsteps and murmurs of concern as the medics began to work on him, their faces a blend of professional calm and underlying urgency.

the phone call came through like a jolt of electricity, shattering the numbness that had settled over you. it was namjoon, his voice raw with panic and urgency. “hey, it’s me,” he said, his voice trembling. “jungkook’s down. he’s unconscious. you need to come to the arena—now.”

the world seemed to collapse around you. the reality of the situation crashed over you, a tidal wave of fear and guilt. without a second thought, you grabbed your keys, your hands shaking uncontrollably. you fumbled as you stuffed them into your pockets, the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears like a relentless drum. struggling to maintain composure, you dashed out the door and mounted your motorcycle, the engine roaring to life beneath you. the wind whipped against your face as you sped through the empty streets, your mind a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts and worries. every red light felt like a cruel delay, every passing second stretching into an eternity as you raced towards the arena.

when you arrived, the scene was a bleak reflection of your worst fears. the arena was deserted, save for a small crowd of bystanders gathered around jungkook, who lay unconscious on the cold, concrete floor. their murmurs of concern filled the air, but their presence felt like an intrusion. you cut through the crowd, pushing aside anyone in your way with an urgency that bordered on desperation. kneeling beside him, you forced yourself to focus despite the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you. his face was a mix of bruises and blood, his breaths shallow and ragged.

“jungkook, please,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you fought to keep your composure. you started by gently wiping away the blood, using your shirt as an impromptu cloth. you carefully inspected his injuries, doing your best to treat them with the limited supplies you had on hand. your hands trembled as you worked, every movement filled with the urgency of the situation. you could feel the weight of his limp body, the coldness of his skin as you checked for a pulse. your heart sank as you realized there was none.

“no, no, no,” you murmured, your voice breaking into a sob. you placed your hands on his chest, starting chest compressions with frantic determination. “come on, jungkook. you have to wake up. please.” namjoon stood nearby, his face a mix of shock and helplessness as he watched your desperate efforts. the sight of you, so determined and emotional, revealed the depth of your feelings for him. he saw you sobbing, your hands pumping his chest with a frantic rhythm, and it was clear how much you cared.

with each push and pump, tears streamed down your face, mingling with the sweat and blood. your breaths came in ragged gasps, your sobs muffled as you continued the lifesaving routine. “don’t you dare leave me,” you pleaded, your voice a raw whisper in the silent space. the seconds felt like hours, each moment stretching out as you fought to keep hope alive. then, as if in response to your pleas, jungkook’s body twitched. you felt a faint pulse beneath your hands, weak but there. your heart leapt with cautious hope, and you continued the treatment with renewed fervor.

finally, his eyes fluttered open, and he looked at you with a dazed expression. the relief that washed over you was overwhelming. you clutched his face, your tears falling onto his bruised skin as you kissed his forehead and brushed his hair away from his eyes. “oh fuck, jungkook,” you cried, your voice choked with emotion. “you’re awake. you’re okay.”

he struggled to focus, his hand reaching out to pull you into an embrace. “you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with relief. “you came back.” you buried your face in his shoulder, your tears mingling with his sweat. “i'm sorry,” you sobbed. “i’m so sorry for everything. i didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

his arms tightened around you, his tears falling silently as he kissed the top of your head. “you came back,” he repeated softly. “you came back for me.”

you pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes as your own continued to well up with tears. “of course i came back,” you said, your voice breaking. “i'll always come back for you.” namjoon watched the exchange with a mixture of disbelief and respect. the intensity of the moment was palpable, the raw emotion between you and jungkook a testament to the depth of your bond. he stood back, allowing the two of you to find solace in each other’s embrace.

the sirens wailed in the distance, but in that moment, all that mattered was the fragile connection between you and jungkook. the pain of the fight, the guilt of your betrayal, and the chaos of the arena seemed distant and inconsequential compared to the relief and love that surged through you both. you remained in his arms, whispering apologies and reassurances, while he held you tightly, the tears on both your faces a testament to the strength of your feelings. the night was far from over, but for now, in the quiet aftermath of the chaos, you found comfort in each other, ready to face whatever came next together.

✧.*

a/n: i hope yall fw this one omg i was gonna do an angsty ending again but im no longer in my k.will era

[beebee18]

Tattoos..

Jungkook x reader

Genre; Fluff, (older) brother's best friend

Characters; Jungkook, Y/n

Summary; What happens when your brother's best friend, who you haven't see in over 3 years, has to pick you up from the airport?

Warnings; None. (Slightly suggestive)

Main Masterlist Bts Masterlist

(Let's pretend he only has tattoos past his wrist for this one 🤓)

"What do you mean you're not here?"

"I can't be there but I've sent Jungkook, you know him."

"Of course.." I sigh hanging up and braced myself walking out of the airport.

He said Jungkook was here, his best friend. Last time I had seen him was almost 3 years ago. He was a 19yr old typical college nerd at the time, just hot, somehow. I was 17, with a tiny crush.

I tried to hide it at least.

I walked out scanning the number of cars and their owners standing outside, scanning for the same mop of hair, baggy clothes, maybe a beanie..

Someone familiar slid in front of me, shit.

He was tall, buff, hair, longer now, brushed back carelessly, were those piercings? My mouth was probably open for all kinds of bugs.

A hand waves in front of me, snapping me out of my daze. Shit this was him??

"Jungkook?" I widen my eyes a little.

"It's me." He smiles, his toothy grin still the same.

Oh confidence, how it changes a person. And this man had stacks of it he probably chest pressed in the gym.

I think my knees are giving out.

"When did you get piercings?" He chuckles grabbing my bags walking to his car, loading the car walking to open a car door, I followed him absentminded.

"We'll talk when you sit." He gestures to the open door, tilting his head. I nod and sit.

Why did my brother not tell me Jungkook got piercings?! This is life altering information!

I wait for him to climb in, buckle up and start driving. "You've changed, huh?"

He laughs before looking at me, cocking a brow "Good or bad?"

"Good, definitely good." I smile at him, his eyebrow piercing shining when he looks back.

We had a good 45 minute drive home I got bored of looking at the same old architecture from before turning to see, oogle, Jungkook.

I've never seen him drive before, I scan his face, his bedhead evident through his messy hair, slight crease of the forehead, pierced eyebrows shadowing his doe eyes puffy from sleep but focused on the road, an oblivious pout adorning his pierced lips. I slowly travel down, his patented black hoodie covering him along with black trousers. Travelling back upto his face I notice a smirk playing at his lips noting my, not so subtle staring.

I clear my throat "Were you sleeping just before coming here?"

"That hasn't changed." He glances at me once. "For good." I laugh at his addition.

After a moment I look back, continuing scanning him for changes, I look at his hands on the steering wheel, something peeking under his sleeve peaking my curiosity. "What's that? Under your sleeve?"

He glances at his wrist, looking at me with a smug smile "What do you think it is?"

It looked like drawing, maybe ink. Could it be? "You have tattoos?" Surprise evident in my voice, my expression holding the same, eyes widened with my mouth agape.

I look at Jungkook to see his expression holding a sense of pride.

"Jeon Jungkook! Does aunty hate you now?!" He laughs at my reaction as I turn in my seat towards him.

"Now now, no need for all that princess."

He pulls his hands away from the steering wheel, rolling up the sleeve of his tattoo covered arm, resting said arm between us. "You can see, I don't mind."

I stare at his arm, it's covered in tattoos. Drawings, shapes, words, objects. I lean forward, they look intricate, must've taken him hours, days all together.

"Princess?"

I hum in response unable to pull myself away from his arm covered in memories, some meaningful, some silly.

"You can touch..." His voice falters, he didn't think he would be so effected by you simply admiring his tattoos.

I snap my eyes to his as soon as I register his words, I scanned his face to look for hesitation, all I caught was a slight nibbling of his lips. Now I wasn't gonna pass up that opportunity.

"Wait, are you sure? You're driving." Even though I was excited I didn't wanna crash.

"Let me worry about that, princess." He glances at me once a hint of a smile on his face.

"Okay, but don't blame me if it tickles." He laughs at my words, smiling at me, a full smile.

I lean in a little, my hand tentatively going up to his wrist, my touch light as I traced over his forearm. Feeling him shift slightly I stop for a moment but continue.

When I reached the crook of his elbow, I saw more hidden ink, braving myself to push his sleeve further up, I held my breath.

Jungkook on the other hand held a mix of surprise and cockiness in himself. He felt light tingles at your touch, his other hand tightening around the steering wheel.

Jungkook was burning. How was this effecting him so much? You were simply admiring his tattoos, a lot of people do that. Perhaps it was the expression you held, absolute adoration, you looked enthralled or...

...maybe his secret liking towards you.

My thoughts were swirling, I was touching him, he didn't push me away, he's stupidly buff now.

"Princess, we're here."

"What?" I snap my head up, looking out the window to see my parents house, indeed we were here.

Looking back at him, noting the light blush covering his neck, his failed attempt at holding eye contact, was he, dare I say, flustered? I smirked slightly.

"You have beautiful tattoos."

"Huh? Yeah, they're pretty cool." He leans back in his seat, smug smile on his face.

We break out of the comfortable silence when my phone rings, my brother asking how far away we are.

I quickly climb out, Jungkook following. He moved to get my luggage walking in with me.

"You got any other surprises for me?" I look up at him, a ghost of a smirk on my lips.

He chuckles lightly, eyeing me and leaning in a few inches from me, he whispers "Maybe I'll let you look for yourself..."

//

[cherryxkush]

risky business | pjm, jjk (m) | 1

synopsis: you’re a successful entrepreneur in the beauty industry and after your assistant/best friend sees the spread in Korea GQ magazine of a popular k-pop artist, she gets him on the first flight to California to start a sponsorship deal, and it was none other than the world-renowned fuckboy you met at a product launch party for Gucci two years ago.

pairing: jimin x female reader x jungkook

rating: mature (18+)

genre: enemies to lovers, love triangle, angst, fluff, smut

warnings/content: swearing, employer/client relationship, past situationship, fuckboy!jimin, celebrity!jimin, love triangle, tattoo artist!jungkook, jin is reader’s lawyer best friend

explicit content: varies between chapters, this one is reader x jungkook, protected sex (good job jk), oral sex (female receiving, but mentions of wanting to give a bj), slight hand/veins kink, multiple orgasms, missionary, doggy style, spanking, jk has a daddy kink, jk calls reader babygirl/princess

disclaimer: this is entirely a work of fiction, and in no way does it reflect thoughts or acts of bts in the real world (:

𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾: 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗄𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒, 𝗃𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 ♡

Next chapter

“Please make sure you actually take off the lens filter before shooting this time,” you told your assistant and best friend, Naiya. You were already behind on shooting and editing the photos for your product line, and you couldn’t afford any more mishaps — otherwise the new launch would be late, and it wouldn’t just be your pay that you had to worry about.

“It was one time!” She rolled her eyes before double-checking that the lens filter actually was off, and then she started taking some photos of the models that were standing against the backdrop. Between each shot, she looked down at the electronic viewfinder on the camera, assessing what could be tweaked and what needed to stay.

She smiled at the models, telling them to take a 10 minute break before walking back over to you. “So, here are the shots so far,” The both of you looked at the screen as she pressed the button to proceed to the next photo, and you were genuinely impressed. “Some of these we can use. They’re great, aside from just a few things to edit. I can do that in post, of course — but, I do think we could use a high-profile male model.”

Your eyebrow rose in question, “High profile? You don’t think we have enough models already?”

“We have a good amount, sure, but finding someone famous will bring more exposure to the brand. Which leads to more inclusivity, more press, more deals — and more coin. Plus, you sell men’s skincare products too, so it’ll look even better for the optics,”

You were actually speechless. Partly because you hadn’t thought of it before (not even the head of your advertising department did, which is a shame), and partly because she was absolutely right. Getting someone with a lot of recognition to model for your beauty brand would create a massive amount of exposure for your business, and could finally land you a spot working with a brand you’ve dreamed of collaborating with since your teenage years.

You were successful in your industry, yes, and it took you a long time and a lot of hard work to get where you are, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t strive to be even better within the industry. Following your passion came with sacrifices, and you weren’t about to let those dark times be for nothing.

But at the same time, this product line that you were about to put out was going to be the bread and butter of your business, so you needed it to be great. Almost perfect, even, and you didn’t know how long it would take to find someone to fit the bill, for the deal to work in both of your favors. It seemed like it was too risky.

You sighed, “Yeah, you’re right. It would really help and we could get tons of publicity from it, but it’s just cutting it too close, Nai. We can’t have this product launch be anything less than damn near perfect.” You walked over to a work desk that was in the studio, pulling out the chair and sitting down before stressfully running a hand through your hair. “I mean, who would I even reach out to? Would we have to do model calls again? The launch is in less than two months now,”

“Girl, look at these,” Naiya said as she walked over to you before plopping down on top of the desk and reaching over to grab her laptop. She took a sip of her drink, opening up the Adobe Photoshop application before turning her laptop towards you. “These are some of the finished shots from the other day. We didn’t even think we’d be able to finish editing these in time, and look how amazing they turned out,” She wasn’t lying — they were stunning.

“They’re beautiful,” you agreed and she beamed, proud of herself. She was your go-to for everything photo and video and she’d wanted to get into that scene long before she actually started, so she had a lot of knowledge and skin in the game in regard to what would look the best for the vision you were going for. She definitely had your back, but there were still some things you were unsure about business-wise, that neither of you were really familiar with. “You’re great at what you do, but what about the other stuff? Making a deal and all the legal things that go along with it? We’re not just talking about influencers that get a commission from sales here, you know?”

“You let me handle finding the person and closing the deal, you go talk to Jin about starting a contract and all the legal shit that goes with it.”

“Absolutely the fuck not.” Jin eyed you with a blank expression as he sat comfortably with his hands folded, judging you.

“What the hell do you mean?!” You exclaimed before turning to examine yourself in the mirror again. “This is cute!”

“You got asked out to dinner after being dry for like 2 years and you can’t do better than leggings and a sweater?”

You rolled your eyes. “First of all, this sweater was expensive,” You walked over to the rack inside your closet, grimacing at the idea of having to wear a dress or skirt. “Second of all, you just want your women to be as high maintenance as you.”

Jin laughed, “This is true, but you would definitely increase your chances of getting laid if you put in more effort,”

“Who says I’m trying to get laid?”

“Your attitude and the fact that you used one of my charging cables for your vibrator.” You felt your face heat up at Jin’s comment, and you wanted to proceed to crawl into a hole, lie in the fetal position, and stay there for eternity.

“I hate you,” you frowned and Jin smirked.

“I love you, too, and wear the black dress. It’ll suit you.”

You spotted the dress at the end of the rack. It was made of a sleek material, smooth silken fabric with mesh, tulle-like sleeves. You’d bought it about 2 years ago after an event in Los Angeles. It was nighttime and on the way back to the hotel, you walked passed the prettiest little boutique and fell in love with the dress immediately — but you never wore it.

You frowned, silently questioning if you could pull it off. It was a different time back then, one where you felt on top of the world and you thought you’d found someone that would sweep you off of your feet and you’d beam at seeing his glimmering eyes rake upon your beauty in the dress. But it didn’t happen that way. In fact, it didn’t happen at all.

In an effort to distract yourself from your thoughts, you decided to ask Jin about the modeling contract.

“Okay, fine, but there’s something I need to talk to you about first.”

“And what’s that?” He raised his eyebrow in question.

“So, you know how I’m releasing a new product line soon?”

He scoffed, “About damn time! Of course I’m already handsome, we all know this, but men need good skincare too,”

You rolled your eyes, “Hence the reason I’m putting out this line, Jin. Anyways, Naiya proposed the idea that we should have a high-profile male model, preferably someone really famous who can bring us a lot of publicity,”

“Okay, and did you find this person yet?”

“Naiya’s working on that. But I do need your help with creating a contract and all the legal shit that’s included,” You grabbed the dress off of the rack hesitantly.

He brought a hand up to his chin as if he were thinking before meeting your gaze. “Alright, say I do it. What do I get out of it?”

“Um...my love and support as your best friend?”

“Will love and support pay my bills?”

You glared at him, “No, but you sure do eat a lot of my food to not pay my grocery bill.”

He laughed nervously, bringing up a finger to rub at his temple, “Well played,”

“Will a full-size bottle of that serum you like be good enough?”

“Throw in those little eye patches too, I don’t care what anyone says about me for using them — my bags are horrendous these days.”

You laughed and Jin cracked a smile. “Deal.”

jungkook [8:31pm]: i’m outside pretty, buzz me up?

you hearted a message from jungkook

You happened to meet Jungkook about 2 months ago when you decided to get a tattoo for the first time. You were really excited about the journey you were on with your business and the woman you were becoming, so you decided to get a self love tattoo that really resonated with you, and Jungkook was your artist.

During your session you couldn’t stop ogling at him due to his good looks and his many, many tattoos — he boldly asked for your number afterwards and you gladly but shyly gave it to him. After talking for a couple months and your busy schedules finally coinciding, Jungkook had been adamant about taking you on a date.

You walked over to the buzzer next to the door of your luxury condo and pressed the button to let Jungkook through the downstairs entrance. Your heart fluttered at the fact that he chose to come all the way to the fifth floor of your building to come get you instead of asking you to meet him downstairs.

You heard a gentle knock before opening the door, meeting Jungkook’s gaze as he presented you with a bouquet of flowers.

You grinned with rosy cheeks, “Aren’t you the gentleman?”

“I try,” He smiled smugly.

“You definitely succeeded,” You walked over to put the flowers in a vase with some water before leaving out. “You really didn’t have to do all this, Jungkook. This is beyond sweet,”

“I meant it when I said I wanted to take you out and show you a good time,” He grabbed your hand as he met your eyes, just as you finished putting away the flowers. “Come on, we don’t wanna be late for our reservation.”

You blushed even harder. “Y-you made a reservation?”

“Of course, you’re too pretty for me not to,” He flashed you a grin before grabbing your hand and interlacing his fingers with yours, and you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest.

The date went well. Jungkook had taken you to a restaurant that had really good food even though it was overpriced, and you liked the vibe of it. It was fancy, with the wait staff dressed in black-tie attire and you were happy that you went with the dress Seokjin suggested. Jungkook took every opportunity to compliment you and he didn’t just compliment your looks, but your conversation as well.

He’d also told you about his career as a tattoo artist and how he’d loved it, having opened up his own shop about a year prior, and you shared details about your journey into the beauty industry. It was almost endearing, the way that he talked about his job, and you felt the same way about yours. Although it could be really stressful, you couldn’t see yourself doing anything else, and you could tell Jungkook shared that with you. It was a connection beyond the physical attraction; it was mental, too, the way it seemed you both complimented each other.

Although, the physical attraction was definitely there.

He’d absentmindedly roll up his sleeves a bit showing his veiny arms as he focused on talking with you, his lip ring glinting in the moody lightning. It made you want to bite your lip, and you shuffled a bit in your seat, growing flustered at the sight of the man before you.

He was fully dressed, engaging in conversation, and you found yourself enamored with him, in awe even though he hadn’t even touched you. Seeing his dimples when he smirked made you want to whimper. Clock it to maybe the fact that you hadn’t been laid in a couple years, and Seokjin’s words had started to creep into your mind, but Jungkook had you hot and bothered without even trying.

“You okay there?” He smirked, not missing the pinkish tint to your cheeks.

Slightly startled because you’d been caught, you replied sheepishly before clearing your throat, “Y-yeah, I’m fine,”

He wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin after taking the last bite of his food and seeing that you were done with yours, suggested you both do something to wind down, but not end your date so soon.

“Do you wanna take a little walk in the city for a bit? I remembered you saying you hadn’t been to this part of town in a while,”

There go the stupid butterflies again.

You arrived outside of your apartment building, Jungkook skillfully parking his sleek car as close as he could to shorten the walk.

He turned off the engine, the both of you relaxing in each other’s presence before either of you decided to leave. He was mesmerizing, lax in nature yet attractively attentive and his scent drove you crazy; it was an earthy, musky scent, one that made your mouth water and your thighs instinctively rub together.

His eye contact sent a delicious chill down your spine, and you missed the burn that his lips left on your hand after giving it a gentle kiss.

Instead of kissing your hand you wanted him to kiss other places, and suddenly his spacious car became too cramped and stuffy for your liking.

To put it plainly, you wanted him out of the car and in your bed. And even though you were shy as hell, this was one opportunity you definitely didn’t want to let pass you by.

You blinked at him, trying to steady your breath before speaking, but it still came out a little bit more breathy than you’d like, and unbeknownst to you, made Jungkook’s dick jump in his pants. “Would you want to come up?”

His eyes went wide with surprise before he tried to shake it off. He cleared his throat, not expecting you to ask, but he took you up on the offer.

In usual Jungkook fashion, he smirked. “Lead the way, Princess.”

You took the elevator up to your condo, hastily putting in your key once you got to your door. You stepped in, taking off your jacket and offering to hang up Jungkook’s.

He closed the door quietly before pinning you against it, his face dangerously close to yours.

His voice was just above a whisper, thick and gravelly. His gaze switched back and forth from your eyes to your lips, and he absentmindedly brought his tongue out to wet his own. “Let me make this clear, do you want this? Because I do,”

You swallowed thickly, already feeling desire pooling in the pit of your stomach at the hold that Jungkook had on you right now. You couldn’t help but nod to answer him, not finding the strength to use your voice. Jungkook wasn’t too happy about that.

“Use your words, baby,” He moved to your ear before dipping just below it to leave a kiss there, a kiss that added to the fuel that was already him hovering over you like this.

“Y-Yes,” you croaked. “I want it,”

“Want what?” He probed, chuckling softly as he continued to pepper kisses along your skin, slowly moving from your ear and down your neck. He could feel you shifting, your thighs squeezing together to give yourself some relief. “If you want more, you gotta use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me,”

He kissed a particular spot that made you gasp softly and offer more of your neck to him. He sucked on the spot, making you whimper and flutter your eyes closed before he pulled away entirely.

You frowned out of disappointment and opened your eyes to see his smug face, lips curled into an amused smirk. There was a glint in his eyes that made your mouth run dry.

“If you don’t want to use your words, I can’t help you, and by the looks of it, I think you want me to,” He bit his lip as he surveyed you, looking you up and down and your tongue came out to wet your lips, “But consent is important, and I need to know if you want it too, and that I’m not reading this wrong,”

You struggled to meet his eyes, simultaneously wanting to crawl into a hole and crawl under him, having him hover over you with his silver chain dangling in your face. You managed to find the courage, though, and the butterflies turned into searing-hot sparks.

“Y-you’re not reading it wrong, I want you, Jungkook. I want you to touch me,”

He cockily grinned at you before closing the gap between the two of you, “Thought you’d never ask.”

He brought his lips to yours, sending all of your nerve endings on fire and creating a heat that pooled in the pit of your stomach. He grabbed the back of your neck roughly before his fingers found themselves in your hair and he tugged slightly on the strands, causing you to moan.

“Oh, she likes that, huh?” He slid his hand down your body before toying with the hem of your dress. “You look so pretty with this on,”

“It would look prettier off,” You quipped, bothered that he wasn’t where you needed him to be.

“Someone’s eager,” he chuckled deeply before dragging his fingers upwards, letting you feel the rough pads of his fingertips on the skin of your thighs. He lightly grabbed the bottom of your dress before pulling it up to your hips. He traced the fabric of your thong with his finger, “Cute,” he said, distracting you a bit from his hands before he firmly pressed a thumb on your clit over your underwear, rubbing in small circles.

“Fuck,” you whispered, throwing your head back against the door, relishing in his touch. You started grinding against his hand, desperate for relief, and he didn’t hesitate to call you out on it.

“So fucking needy,” he growled, and you felt an electrifying jolt run through your body again. He rubbed harder and you gasped, rolling your eyes back. “I barely touched you and you’re already soaking through your panties.”

You brought your hand up to rake your manicured nails along his scalp before pulling, earning a grunt of approval from him. You smashed your lips onto his in fervor and he grunted, opening his mouth to allow you entrance and your tongues battled for dominance. He held you closer, cupping your scantily clad ass in his big, veiny hands before slapping your ass hard. You let out a small, surprised yelp before relishing and moaning at the sting.

He did it again but harder, and you were positive you were in fact dripping down your legs at this point.

You pecked him a couple of times before grabbing his hand and leading him after you. “Room. Now.”

Once you got to your room, Jungkook proceeded to turn you around to face him and continued kissing you, bringing up a hand to cup your face.

He walked you backwards and when the backs of your heels reached the frame, he pushed you onto the bed.

He stood over you, skilled hands working at undoing his belt and you could see how hard he was. Throwing your head back, your hands reached your clothed breasts and began to fondle them, fingertips enclosing and twisting your nipples, and Jungkook’s mouth watered at the sight.

His belt flew to the floor somewhere and he grabbed the back of your calves to pull you closer to him at the edge of the bed. Your dress was covering too much, he decided.

“Take your dress off, babygirl, unless you want me to rip it.”

You almost moaned at his words. The dress flew somewhere too, and you lie in front of him, clothed in nothing but your thong, tits on full display.

He licked his lips and as you saw his face coming toward you, you could’ve sworn it would’ve been to take one of your tits in his mouth, but he placed a kiss above your belly button. And you shivered as you saw that he kept going lower.

He peppered soft, slow pecks along your skin until he was face to face with the source of your wetness, and Jungkook leaned in to lick a strip on the material of your panties. Your hands fisted the blanket as he teased you at an agonizingly slow pace, moving his tongue anywhere but the place you actually needed him, making you squirm.

He hooked his fingers underneath your underwear before ripping it off of you, the frail piece of lace no match for his strength as it tore.

“Will just have to buy you another pair.” He winked before kissing you again, but this time right above your clit, his breath warm and his touch sending you into overdrive.

You spread your legs for him eagerly and his long fingers spread your lips, stopping to admire you. You self-consciously had half a mind to close them as he gazed upon your lower half, but he held them open and finally licked a strip from your hole to your clit.

“S-shit,” you moaned as he held you open, his tongue meeting your clit as he swirled it in tight circles before giving it a hard suck. “Fuck!”

“Mmm,” He moaned against you, causing you to shiver again, hips bucking into his mouth. “You taste good, gonna make you cum on my tongue first.”

He lapped at you like you were the dessert he craved but never had, as if you were the best thing he’d ever taste. He licked at you, flattening his tongue before circling your clit again, and you had to try your best not to scream.

And you didn’t scream, until he started sucking on your clit again.

“Fucking shit, ‘Kook,” You moaned loudly and he hummed at the nickname. You had never been eaten out this good before, and you were so close to cumming on his tongue in so short of a time that you were almost embarrassed.

One of his fingers teased against your hole before diving in, and your toes curled before he added another. “Gotta stretch you out,” He mumbled against your pussy before swirling his tongue again. He curled his fingers expertly, reaching the spongey part within you that made tears prick your eyes from the pleasure.

You arched your back, hips leading away from his mouth before he tightened his grip around them with his other hand and held you so close you were worried you’d suffocate him.

He made eye contact with you and it had you feeling like you were going to combust. You reached down to tangle your fingers into his hair and he created a faster pace with his digits, darting in and out of you so quickly that you were sure you’d cum in 5 minutes flat.

His let go of your hip to rub your clit as his tongue took a break, and the coil in your stomach tightened even more, tears rolling down your face at how good he was making you feel.

“Look at how well that pussy takes my fingers,” he mused, “Fuck, you’re so pretty,”

Your pussy tightened around his fingers and he slapped your clit lightly, “Fuck, yes!” you were shouting, and it made his heart swell at the pleasure he was giving you. He wanted to make you cum hard, and fuck if he wasn’t gonna taste it. He wanted all of you.

“I’m so close,” you said all breathy, your vocal cords nearly strained, and you had so much more to go. Jungkook’s goal was to make sure you couldn’t walk the next day.

“Cum for me, pretty,” He rasped, before sucking on your clit hard, and watching you come undone on his tongue.

“I-I’m gonna cum, I’m — Jungkook!”

He hummed as he lapped up your juices, tasting you as he let you ride out your high and when you came down from it, you thought he’d give you a break. But he wasn’t done.

He stood up and brought his fingers up to his mouth, sucking them to get every last bit of you off of them. He leaned in to hover over you and kiss you, your tongue colliding with his as you tasted yourself. To your surprise, it only seemed to make you wetter.

He took off his boxers, cock springing up to slap against his stomach. It was leaky, the tip oozing precum and you wanted so badly to have him in your mouth but when you’d suggested it, he declined and you pouted.

He grabbed a condom from you don’t even know where and ripped it with his teeth before rolling it on. “Uh-uh, tonight’s about you. You can take care of me another time, babygirl,” He said before winking at you and pumping himself a couple times before lining himself up with your entrance.

He grabbed your legs by your ankles and put them over his shoulder, pushing into you and you mewled at the stretch. He stopped to let you get acclimated to the size and waited until you gave him a nod to continue before backing out of you and snapping his hips in a pace that was so rough and so fast it damn near knocked the wind out of you.

You screamed so loud that were sure your neighbors would hate you, but you didn’t care, not one bit.

“S-Shit, your cock is so good,” He groaned as he continued his pace while you were clutching the blanket so hard your knuckles were turning white. “Do it again,”

He snapped his hips into you again, hitting your cervix. “Babygirl likes that, huh? You like when I slam my cock into you?”

“F-fuck, yeah, I l-love it,”

“How is your pussy still so tight after fucking you with my fingers like that,” He was gritting his teeth, trying not to empty his load into you already. He can usually hold out but your pussy was too good, so slick and tight and sucking him in.

You clenched purposefully and giggled and he groaned, damn near having to stop to pace himself because of you. Nonetheless he kept going, and he was determined to wreck your pussy and make you crave him afterwards.

He grabbed your legs and pushed so you were bent at the knees and you were holding them in place. Then he started speeding up again, snapping his hips into you and you were seeing stars.

“Fuuuuck, J-“

“Say my name baby, who’s fucking you this good?”

“You are, J-Jungkook, fuck,” you threw your head back into the pillows, eyes rolling back and toes curling.

He was holding onto you so tight, thrusting into you so hard he was going to leave pretty little bruises for you to remember the night by.

“Your pussy is s-so good,” He reached down to rub your clit, and you arched your back again, clenching around him and he moaned. “W-wanna fuck you in doggy before I make you cum again,”

He slid out of you, leaving you feeling empty and missing his warmth before he helped you turn over, positioning you face down, ass up.

He smacked your ass with force and you whimpered at the sting before wiggling your bum and teasing him so he’d do it again.

He did it harder this time and the pain had you gritting your teeth, but it sent a delicious chill along your veins that was intoxicating, and you wanted more.

He lined himself up at your entrance again and as you felt him lined up perfectly, his head peaking at your hole, you slammed back against him, ass meeting his pelvis as he bottomed out. You moaned into the blanket, grabbing fistfuls of it.

“Fuck!” He yelled, eyes rolling back and you felt the coil winding up again at him being vocal. “Babygirl wants back shots from Daddy, yeah? If you wanted me to drill you, Princess, all you had to do was ask.”

Oh shit.

Ohhhh shit.

He pulled almost all the way out of you before snapping his hips again, bottoming out and hitting your cervix so good your toes curled and your back arched so much you knew you’d be sore afterwards.

He continued his relentless pace and you met his thrusts, his balls slapping delectably against your clit and you moaned pornographically in response.

He reached forward to grab your hair and pull you up so that your back met his chest, and the burn made fire ignite in your belly, so much so that the coil was going to snap any second now.

It was too much and not enough all at once. You wanted more and more of whatever he was willing to give you, you wanted to be so drunk on his dick that you forgot your own name.

He reached down to rub circles on your clit and that’s when you lost it.

“J-Jungkook, I’m cumming!” You creamed on his cock with a cry and a shake, quaking from the sheer amount of pleasure of your orgasm. He coaxed you through it as you rode out your high, his fingers still playing with your clit as he rubbed it just the way you liked.

He led you down to the bed, gently as he slowed his pace inside you. “I’m almost there, Princess. Daddy’s gonna cum for you,”

You moaned loudly, leaking even more at the name. You loved how vocal he was and how sexy he made you feel. It was addicting.

And to try to repay him for how good he made you feel, you managed to have the strength to throw your ass onto him, hard, to get him to cum. You wanted his load in you.

“F-fuck baby, I really will cum if you keep doing that,” He bit his lip, toying with the ring and you were glad you had turned around slightly in time to see it. When you faced back forward, Jungkook was in for a treat.

You pushed back with force, arching your back so well that he hit the right spots all while clenching your pussy like you wanted to milk him and he loved it.

“S-Shit, baby, I’m gonna cum,”

“Cum for me Daddy,” you said with a sensual tone, one that had his eyes rolling back into his head as your ass met his hips one last time before spilling his load into the condom.

He came with a hiss and holding onto your hips for dear life. You were sure to have marks tomorrow, and neither of you were mad about it.

After coming down from his post-orgasm high, he gently pulled out of you before proceeding to take off the condom and tie a knot before throwing it away in the bathroom connected to your room.

He was rummaging in there for what seemed like a tad bit too long, and you were puzzled although you were too tired to see what he was doing. You heard the sink run for a few seconds before being turned off, and then you saw him come out of the bathroom, damp towel in hand.

“Sorry about that,” He smiled sheepishly. “I wanted to get something to clean you up,” He gently wiped your juices from your body. It was relaxing and gentle, soothing you. You smiled in appreciation before thanking him, grinning as you met his eyes.

“Still the gentleman,” He winked, sending butterflies roaming around your stomach again. It was becoming a regular thing with Jungkook, and you liked it.

“I try,” He laughed and you threw a pillow at him while laughing too.

You got up to go pee before changing into some underwear and a loosely fitted t-shirt. You glanced at the clock and saw that it said 3 am before turning off the lights and climbing into bed, Jungkook cuddling up next to you and you laid your head on his chest.

The light coming from your phone was bright as it flashed and you heard the familiar tone of an incoming iMessage, but you chose to ignore it, as Jungkook was too warm and this was the best you’d felt in a long time.

You were in for a big surprise tomorrow, but for now, as comfy and giddy as you were, maybe you could get used to having Jungkook around.

2 unread messages

naiyaaa [3:02am]: srry i know it’s hella late, i fell asleep at like 7 while watching my show lmao

naiyaaa [3:02am]: just wanted to tell u i got somebody to model for u!! it’s park jimin, he’s super famous in south korea bitch. we going worldwideee

author’s note: 𝖺𝗁𝗁𝗁!! 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 ��𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗅. 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 & 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 𝗂𝖿 𝗌𝗈, 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 <3 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇 ♡

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